Tapestry of Lives ~ Section IX

    By Jean M.

    Beginning, Previous Section, Section IX, Next Section

    Chapter 27. What's Yours is Mine.

    Posted on 2010-11-11

    August 1818

    The carriage came to a stop on Gracechurch Street gently, but when Elizabeth stepped down, she eyed the familiar brick house with uncharacteristic misgiving. When Mr. Bennet and his daughters had arrived at noon on the previous day, Lydia had been properly muted, still reeling from the revelation that Mr. Wickham was not remotely as devoted to her as she had assumed.

    Unfortunately, the shock did not appear to last beyond a day, for on the very next morning the youngest Miss Bennet had joined the family at breakfast, acting as though nothing untoward had happened. The revelation that she was to be left behind while Elizabeth and Jane went shopping with Mrs. Gardiner had prompted a tantrum of truly epic proportions.

    After giving his brother-in-law a pointed look that clearly expressed how he would not put up with such behavior from his six-year-old daughter, let alone one who was nearly sixteen, Mr. Gardiner had departed for his place of work. Jane and Mrs. Gardiner had tried to reason with Lydia, but their gentle coaxing had no effect. Elizabeth had given her sister a wide berth because she truly feared that much more of Lydia's thoughtless whining would cause her to lose her temper and strike the girl.

    Through all of this, Mr. Bennet had sat, grim and silent; the only positive thing Elizabeth could see was that he had not retreated to his usual, sardonic amusement over her youngest sister's misbehavior.

    Mrs. Gardiner finally lost her temper when Lydia hissed at her, "You can't tell me what to do! You haven't the right!"

    Standing straight and tall, Madeleine Gardiner, née de Bourgh, pinned her niece with a look that conveyed all of her disgust. "You are a guest in my house; have you no manners at all, you spoiled child?!?" She turned to her other nieces and spoke decisively. "Jane, Lizzy; go get ready. We shall leave in ten minutes."

    When Lydia began to whine anew, Madeleine turned on her brother-in-law. "Thomas, she is your daughter; your responsibility! Deal with her!!!" And with that, she hustled Elizabeth and Jane out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

    Elizabeth was uncertain what had occurred once Lydia and their father were alone in the breakfast room, but it had not lasted long. Before the other ladies had finished readying themselves, the sound of Lydia pounding up the stairs and slamming her bedchamber door had reverberated through the house.

    Lizzy was ashamed at how relieved she felt to be leaving the house and from Jane's subdued manner she guessed that her sister felt the same. The three ladies had ridden in silence for several minutes as the Gardiners' carriage traversed the streets of London. Finally Mrs. Gardiner had sighed and reached out to touch her nieces' hands.

    "My poor dears. I am so sorry. This should be a happy time for you-- shopping and planning for your weddings."

    Elizabeth held tightly to her aunt's hand. "I am so sorry to see her treat you in such a disrespectful manner, Aunt. It is as though she is lost to any concept of propriety. I should have spoken, but I honestly feared that I would slap her."

    Mrs. Gardiner smiled wanly at her favorite niece. "No, Lizzy; you must not try to take on the blame for Lydia's poor behavior. It is your father's responsibility. I can only hope that he will take her in hand, for God only knows what will happen to her if she continues along her present course."

    Jane spoke in a wondering voice. "I simply cannot understand her. She seems to have no notion of the horrible situation she would have been in, had we not been at that inn and rescued her. Her only regret seems to be that Mr. Wickham lied about loving her."

    After several minutes of silence as the three ladies considered the truth of Jane's words, Mrs. Gardiner finally shook herself out of the mood and forced a light tone. "Well, enough of that. Lydia is your father's problem for the day. We are going shopping for your weddings, so no more gloomy thoughts!"

    Mrs. Gardiner's preferred dressmaker was a seamstress named Mrs. Burke who had presided over her shop on Mill Street for nearly thirty years. Unfortunately, the old woman's eyes were growing increasingly cloudy and she sadly admitted that she could not take on such an extensive commission as Jane and Elizabeth would require.

    Mrs. Burke's daughter was taking over the shop but after leafing through some patterns, it was quickly apparent that her style was very different from the Miss Bennets' tastes. Luckily, the younger seamstress had more than enough work to do already and took no offense when the ladies indicated their preference to visit some other shops before deciding. Old Mrs. Burke was commissioned to embroider some new petticoats and settled happily in a sunny corner with a granddaughter at her feet to sort threads by colour; the designs she could stitch by touch.

    After some pleasant hours browsing in other shops to look at bonnets and gloves, the ladies settled back in their carriage with much better spirits (and more than a few parcels).

    "That cream bonnet with the blue lining is truly beautiful on you, Jane; it matches your eyes perfectly," said Elizabeth.

    "And I still say that it looked even more lovely on you, Lizzy," replied her sister fondly. The eldest Miss Bennet then wrinkled her brow. "It is strange to think that we will not be able to share our things anymore."

    Before Jane could become melancholy over their upcoming separation, Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and teased, "Well, we shall simply have to rely on the post; you shall have the bonnet for May and then send it to me so that I may wear it in June. What do you say? I shall rip it apart and redecorate it before I return it to you, of course. It wouldn't do for people to think that Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy were wearing the same bonnets!"

    Elizabeth was pleased to see her sister giggling when the carriage came to a halt. Looking out of the window, she looked questioningly at her aunt.

    Mrs. Gardiner smiled, entirely pleased with her surprise. "Miss Darcy invited us for late luncheon." The happy look that infused her niece's face was all the thanks she needed.

    The door to Derwent House was barely opened before Georgiana was there to greet them, looking more like an eager girl of ten than a young lady of seventeen. Her enthusiasm was only slightly diminished when she apologized to Elizabeth and Jane. "I am so sorry, but my brother and Mr. Bingley are not able to join us. My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, arrived this morning and they've taken Mr. Wickham to be locked up at the army barracks." Her pursed lips indicated precisely what she thought of that man; Lizzy was pleased to see that there was hardly any trace of the fearfulness that had ruled the girl in the months after Ramsgate.

    Not wishing for the conversation to focus on either Wickham or Lydia, Elizabeth took Georgiana's arm and they led the way toward the drawing room. "Well, we shall have a lovely ladies' luncheon and talk about gowns and lace and bonnets, and all sorts of good things. I dare say we shall not miss the gentlemen at all!"

    Miss Darcy grinned back and was only able to respond, "Oh, and I have another surprise!" before they were met in the hall by both Mr. Darcy's butler and his housekeeper. Suddenly realizing that this was Miss Bennet's first visit to Derwent House as its future mistress, Georgiana became flustered and only barely managed to make the introductions.

    Luckily, her stammers mattered little, for all parties were eager to like and be liked. Mr. Holmes was as solemn and stern as Elizabeth remembered from her visit in the spring, and Mrs. Wilkins was as eager and friendly as Mr. Darcy had led her to expect. They tentatively arranged an appointment the following week for Miss Bennet to meet the staff and tour the private rooms of the house. The housekeeper was soon bustling off to find Mr. Darcy's secretary and confirm that the Master's schedule was open on Monday next.

    After watching the plump woman practically skip down the hall, Elizabeth turned to see the other ladies trading bemused looks.

    "That was amazing," breathed Georgiana. "She always makes me feel as though I am ten-years-old."

    The others were just laughing when a voice drew their attention to an older woman standing in the door to the drawing room. Hers was the type that had begun as youthful prettiness and grown more handsome with age. She stood tall with a stately carriage, but there was a distinct sparkle of humor in her eye. "Perhaps if you did not forward all of Mrs. Wilkins' questions to your brother, she might be more in the habit of treating you as Mistress, Georgiana."

    Lizzy looked closely at the younger girl, worried that she might take the woman's comment too seriously. It was a relief when Georgiana merely smiled and replied in an overly innocent tone; "But William is so much better at arranging the menus than I, Aunt."

    A life-long friendship was born at that instant, when the Countess of Matlock and Miss Elizabeth Bennet caught each other rolling their eyes over young Miss Darcy's cheekiness, particularly when Georgiana added, "Besides, Elizabeth shall be here now, and she can handle both Mrs. Wilkins and my brother."

    With a great deal of laughter, Elizabeth and her relations were welcomed into the drawing room and presented to Mr. Darcy's aunt, Lady Eleanor Fitzwilliam, and her daughters, Lady Ellen Parker and Mrs. Lucy Wallace. Lizzy was particularly pleased to find Miss de Bourgh and her faithful companion sitting quietly but obviously content with the company.

    Mrs. Gardiner and the Fitzwilliam ladies soon discovered that they had several acquaintances in common and were involved in many of the same charities. Mrs. Wallace was particularly pleased to discover Madeleine's close relationship with St. Elmo's home for injured soldiers and sailors, although Mrs. Gardiner did not go so far as to admit that her father had been its founder.

    "When my husband was stationed in India, I began volunteering there as a way to feel I was helping in some way, even if I could not be with him. Then, when he died, the men there shared my grief, even if they did not know John personally," admitted Lucy. "It was like they treated me as they would wish other soldiers to treat their own widows, had the worst happened."

    Mrs. Gardiner smiled understandingly, warmed by the praise for her father's work, and the ladies spoke for some minutes about the good work being done at St. Elmo's.

    Lady Ellen greeted her cousin's betrothed pleasantly but seemed particularly pleased with Miss Jane Bennet's serenity. The two ladies quickly fell into easy conversation about the wedding and the Bingleys' plans for the spring Season.

    Glad to see her current and future relations meshing with such apparent ease, Elizabeth turned to find the Countess observing her closely. Suppressing a twinge of nervousness, she smiled, "Lady Eleanor, it is truly a pleasure to meet you. Mr. Darcy and his sister have both spoken of you with great fondness."

    The Countess nodded slightly to herself, as though her nephew's fiancé had just passed a test. Though she had always planned to do everything in her power to ensure that Darcy's wife succeeded, the lad's choice had been an unknown quantity and it was a relief to see such genuine amiability. "Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. It is a pleasure to meet you as well; my nephew and niece have been singing your praises, as well as my son." It amused her to see the young lady blush slightly and lower her eyes.

    "Thank you; I am sure that they have been far too kind." Elizabeth paused for a moment, finding herself at an unusual loss for words. She wished to thank William's aunt for her assistance to him during Lady Catherine's visit to Matlock, but could not find an appropriate way to phrase it while in Miss de Bourgh's presence. She cast her mind about for another topic. "And how is Colonel Fitzwilliam? I have not seen him since his brief stay at Pemberley when we were visiting Derbyshire in June."

    Eleanor smiled warmly at the mention of her favorite son. "I have heard that Richard is back in Town, though I have not yet seen him myself." She sighed. "I had hoped that this new position would keep him in one place, but it seems he is forever being sent off on one assignment or another."

    Suddenly remembering precisely whom the Colonel was dealing with that day, Elizabeth merely made sympathetic noises before turning her attention to Darcy's cousin.

    "Miss de Bourgh, how have you been?"

    Once the small woman indicated that her health was well enough and agreed that Lady Catherine had returned to Kent, there was a pause. Then Miss de Bourgh met Elizabeth's eye and offered softly, "I was very glad to meet Mrs. Gardiner and her family. Thank you for suggesting that I make their acquaintance."

    Lizzy grinned broadly. "I am so glad. Jane and I always look forward to our visits to Gracechurch Street. Shall you be coming to the party tomorrow?" When Anne nodded shyly, Elizabeth made her pleasure clear before turning back to the Countess. "And shall you be able to attend as well, Lady Eleanor? I trust that Mr. Darcy remembered to invite you to our little engagement party?"

    The sparkle in the older lady's eye assured Elizabeth that her fiancé's family contained at least one kindred spirit. "Actually, Georgiana had to prompt him. William has been rather absent-minded lately."

    Lizzy couldn't help but laugh at the tease, and Lady Eleanor was pleased to see the girl blush as well.

    Before Elizabeth could respond, Miss de Bourgh's whispery voice was heard again. "He is very happy."

    Not long after, Mr. Holmes knocked softly on the door and informed Miss Darcy that luncheon was ready to be served. The elderly butler looked shyly toward his future mistress and Elizabeth found herself giving him a small nod; Lady Eleanor noted the interaction and smiled in approval. Her concerns that the future Mrs. Darcy would be unprepared for her new responsibilities were rapidly evaporating.

    Lunch was pleasant. Elizabeth found Lady Ellen to be much like Jane--calm and good and serene-- but it was Lucy's energy and joie de vivre that had her laughing out loud. It was through Lucy's encouragement that Miss de Bourgh admitted that the Earl had explained the details of her inheritance to her just the previous afternoon.

    "It is all very confusing, because so many of the people died at the same time," admitted Anne. "My brothers were to inherit the estate and the bulk of the fortune, of course, as well as act as my guardians in the case of my father's death. But my father sent a letter from Pemberley to his solicitors amending his will; apparently he realized it was unlikely he and his sons would survive."

    When Miss de Bourgh trailed off, Lady Eleanor took up the story. "Apparently Sir Lewis was feuding with his father and elder brother at the time (though they were usually thick as thieves). We all expected him to leave his fortune to them, but Sir Lewis' letter names one of his younger brothers as heir of Rosings if Anne does not marry and produce a male child."

    Elizabeth looked toward her aunt who was doing her best to control her own shock. Not having made the connection with Mrs. Gardiner, Lady Eleanor continued blithely; "Unfortunately, Jonathan de Bourgh and his family also died in the epidemic, which leaves it all a bit of a muddle. Apparently Lord Maxwell and George de Bourgh tried to get at Rosings and Sir Lewis' fortune immediately after his death, but Anne's father made his final intentions clear enough that they hadn't a chance."

    Had a stranger been in the room, they would have been struck by the differing reactions exhibited by the different ladies. Miss de Bourgh shuddered at the thought of having a child. Mrs. Gardiner was staring at her hands with wide eyes and Elizabeth was watching her. Suddenly realizing that her aunt would not wish to announce her parentage at that moment, Elizabeth turned back to Lady Eleanor and searched for a response that would not be out of place.

    "Goodness, that does make it quite a muddle. Who are Miss de Bourgh's guardians in the interim?"

    The Countess nodded--pleased by the astute question--and disregarded the strange reaction of Mrs. Gardiner for the moment. "Sir Lewis requested Mr. Jonathan de Bourgh and the Earl as guardians, and his solicitors continue to act as trustees to the estate. Lord Henry is not well pleased by how they fulfilled that duty, but they argued that Lady Catherine has sent annual reports while they kept track of the investments. Honestly, I believe that they are afraid of her."

    Elizabeth couldn't help but giggle with Lady Eleanor and her daughters. Turning to Miss de Bourgh, she was pleased to see a flash of humor in her eyes as well. Without thinking, she wondered aloud, "Wouldn't it all be so much easier if women could inherit property directly?"

    At the sharp intake of breath heard around the table, Elizabeth was quickly reminded that her liberal leanings were not best exposed in new company. Luckily, her concern was short-lived. Lady Eleanor and Mrs. Wallace both burst into pleased laughter. The Countess reached out a hand to pat the girl's hand and mentally thanked God that Darcy had had the courage to bring this fresh spirit into the family.

    Finally, Eleanor managed to speak; "Ah, Miss Elizabeth… you are a woman after my own heart! They expect us to run their households and estates, but heaven forbid that we might own any of it ourselves."

    Lucy added eagerly, "I can't tell you how many times I've had to bite my tongue to keep from telling off Father's political cronies! One moment they are complimenting the hostess on her grand party, and the next minute they are explaining why we ladies are too feeble-minded and emotional to be trusted with property… and don't get me started on a woman's place in government!"

    Having discovered a mutual interest, the three ladies happily debated women's rights for the remainder of the meal. Meanwhile, Jane spoke quietly with Lady Eleanor about living in London, neither particularly aggressive in their wishes for rights beyond those traditionally ascribed to women. Mrs. Gardiner remained quiet; though normally she would have eagerly joined Elizabeth in her discussion of suffrage, her mind was too overwhelmed with thoughts of her father and his family.

    When the ladies were finished dining and the guests prepared to depart, Madeleine moved to where Miss de Bourgh was standing in the corner. "I feel as though I should apologize. If my father was to be your guardian, then somehow we should have looked after you."

    Anne cocked her head, surprised to find that she was developing a true affection for this previously unknown cousin. "There is no need. You had no more knowledge of my existence than I did of yours."

    The two cousins shared a long look and eventually smiled at each other. Giving the younger woman a small hug, Mrs. Gardiner sighed. "Come visit me soon. Not just the party tomorrow--there will be no time to talk then. Come sometime when we can sit alone and really talk, my dear."

    The Miss Bennets and their aunt chatted easily about their new acquaintances for several minutes as the carriage navigated the streets from Grosvenor Square to Gracechurch Street. Unfortunately, the happy mood was dampened when they caught sight of several red coats standing at the street corner as they turned toward the Gardiners' home.

    However, despite Lizzy's misgivings, she stepped down from the carriage and joined Mrs. Gardiner and Jane on the sidewalk. Waving off her aunt's offer to help, Elizabeth passed out the box containing Jane's favorite new bonnet to her sister and then helped Mr. Gardiner's manservant gather up the remaining parcels, pointing out which was to go to whose room.

    When Elizabeth stepped through the front door and the maid closed it behind her, she noticed that the house seemed exceedingly quiet. She peaked through the open door to her uncle's study and greeted her father, but it was clear that Mrs. Gardiner was in the midst of quizzing him about Lydia's activities during their absence so she quickly excused herself and followed in Jane's footsteps up the stairs.

    Meanwhile, the eldest Miss Bennet was receiving a most unhappy surprise.

    Jane's beauty had been admired and commented on for as long as she could remember. As a result, it never even occurred to her to be nervous over whether London Society would deem her worthy of her handsome (and rich!) fiancé. However, any girl knows that even great beauty cannot protect a lady who is dressed in unflattering (or, heaven forbid, dowdy!) clothes from the disdain and ridicule of the fashionable. Mrs. Bennet's appreciation of her eldest daughter's beauty (which was so reminiscent of her own) meant that Jane had always been well dressed. When packing for their trip to London, Jane had carefully considered her wardrobe and selected the most attractive, fashionable, and above all, flattering gowns and accessories.

    The eldest Miss Bennet was not overly vain, but she enjoyed being pretty and wearing pretty things. Thus, when she opened the door to the bedchamber that she was sharing with Lizzy to find her carefully selected ensembles torn from the closet and strewn over the bed and tumbling onto the floor, she froze in shock.

    Climbing the stairs behind Jane, Elizabeth heard her usually serene sister make a noise unlike any she had ever heard from her before. Then Miss Bennet turned on her heel and, stepping across the hall, threw open the door to the bedchamber Lydia was sharing with their nieces.

    "Lydia! What have you done?!?" shrieked Jane.

    At Longbourn, Lydia would not have dared pilfer from her elder sister's clothes, in part because her mother always sided with Jane, whereas it was quite easy for Lydia to have her way with Kitty. However, the youngest Miss Bennet had grown bored sitting alone in her room, wearing the same, dull, muslin morning dress that she had departed Longbourn in, while her sisters were off visiting the London shops with their aunt.

    Deciding that Jane and Lizzy would soon have entirely new wardrobes, Lydia had raided her sisters' trunks without a second thought and happily settled in to rip apart the bonnets and gowns to her taste. Unfortunately for Jane, Elizabeth's slender figure meant that her dresses were more difficult to alter to fit Lydia's more voluptuous proportions. As a result, Jane's favorite gowns were currently in varying stages of dismemberment. The long sleeves had been detached from a lavender muslin morning dress (awaiting replacement with short sleeves when Lydia found fabric to match). Green ribbon (ripped from Lizzy's sage bonnet) had been sewn (crookedly) to ornament the hem of the pink day dress that Jane had planned to wear to the engagement party on Thursday. Worst of all, handfuls of frothy lace (found in a box that the young Miss Gardiners saved for dressing their dolls) had been whip-stitched to the bodice of Jane's favorite, elegantly simple, light blue silk evening gown (to be finished later).

    If the destruction of finery was distressing, the resulting emotional carnage was beyond anything Elizabeth had ever seen between any of the Bennet sisters. Lydia, having never seen her eldest sister so angry, continued to lounge on her bed, abet with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. Jane had no practice articulating her feelings while her emotions were running so high, but her self-righteous fury demanded an outlet.

    Miss Bennet began gathering up what was hers while sputtering angry comments and accusations. "Thoughtless, wretched child! My blue silk! You've ruined it!!! Spoiled, spoiled, little brat… Lydia--let go! It is mine!"

    Elizabeth's eyebrows had nearly reached her hairline when a tearful, red-faced Jane ripped a pink muslin from Lydia's hands and brushed by Lizzy with her arms full of a tangled jumble of dresses, bonnets and various other items necessary to a young lady's costume. Unfortunately, the shock wore off almost immediately and Lydia was right behind her sister, voicing her protests at full volume.

    "But Jane… That's not fair!"

    Miss Bennet stopped sorting her clothes and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand before turning a stern look on her youngest sister. "You know better! Had you asked me, I would have loaned you something. Instead, you sneak in and… and rip apart my prettiest dresses… without my permission!" The tears began again and Jane's voice turned into a wail.

    "But you have so many nice things and I haven't a thing to wear!"

    "And why is that, Lydia? Hmmmmm? Perhaps because you thoughtlessly left all you friends and family, threw your reputation away on the lies of a… a…" Jane fumbled to find a word bad enough to describe Mr. Wickham and finally settled on "blackguard!!!"

    Not finding an easy response (for she had indeed climbed into Wickham's curricle with nothing but her reticule and a few shillings), Lydia stormed out of the room. Elizabeth watched her go before moving to comfort Jane.

    Ears still ringing from the tongue-lashing, Lydia decided that she wanted to be nowhere near her sisters and turned to go downstairs. Had she thought at all, she would have realized that none of the adults she was likely to find there would have the least sympathy for her plight. However, when she neared the sitting room door and heard strange male voices, she smirked. Lizzy and Jane could act as superior as they wished; no one could flirt as well as Lydia.

    The youngest Miss Bennet smiled smugly when she caught the flash of a red coat just inside the open door and then flattened herself against the wall to eavesdrop before making her grand entrance. Usually, Lydia would have been thrilled to discover that she herself was the topic being discussed. However, the uncensored conversation rapidly destroyed the self-delusions that even her sisters had not been able to touch.

    "My daughter wrote these? All of these? To Mr. Wickham?" Her father's voice sounded so broken that it touched even Lydia.

    "Yes, sir. We found them in his satchel with a packet of other letters that he appears to have been using to blackmail various people. The penmanship was so poor, you see, that we first assumed them to be from some infatuated serving girl." Mr. Darcy trailed off.

    Lydia was thoroughly indignant. How dare he criticize her penmanship!?! Of course she could write the best of all her sisters, if she wanted to! It was only that poor handwriting kept her from having to help write invitations or thank you notes and so forth! And how dare they read her private letters, anyway!

    Meanwhile, a voice Lydia recognized as Colonel Forster had begun speaking, angrier than she had ever heard him. "She was sending them to my wife in Bristol; apparently Mrs. Forster was passing them on to Wickham. I had no idea until I found this last one mixed in with some papers when Becky arrived in Meryton; she had not finished packing up the house when the regiment had to march, so I left her behind with a squad of soldiers to help, commanded by Lieutenant Wickham, Lord help me."

    Colonel Forster snorted. "Take comfort, Bennet, that it is clear from your daughter's letter that, though she was eager, Wickham had not yet had the chance to pluck her… unlike my wife." This last was said in a bitter snarl. The gentleman's vocabulary can be excused by the fact that he was a military man and thought that he was speaking to a purely masculine audience.

    "Oh dear Lord…" Mr. Bennet was thoroughly appalled, and for once Lydia's feelings were not far different.

    "Sirs," interrupted Mr. Darcy. "Let us remember that this particular disaster has been averted. Miss Lydia was discovered before Wickham could ruin her; her letters have been recovered and shall be destroyed. Colonel Fitzwilliam assures me that there are enough charges against him that there need not be any mention of her at the trial on Friday."

    There was a pause before a voice Lydia did not recognize spoke.

    "Darce, that is fine for now, but…"

    "Richard, we shall protect her…"

    Colonel Fitzwilliam snorted. "You cannot protect her from herself! I have not met the girl, but everything I have heard tells me that your method of protection shall not work in this case. Wills--she is clearly not like Georgiana. You cannot surround her with eagle-eyed companions and keep her closeted away from any man with less than innocent intentions."

    Though Darcy tried to protest, Richard waved him off and turned to the older gentleman who was still looking rather pale. "Mr. Bennet. We have not met before, but I have the utmost respect for Miss Elizabeth. If your youngest is anything like her, then I expect to meet a spirited girl with a zest for living and a determined independence that is not likely to be suppressed by an order from her father, however it is worded. If she does not understand why she must behave, then she will simply focus her energies on getting around your authority and finding some other mischief."

    Mr. Bennet nodded tiredly. "And the next time she could very well succeed in ruining her own reputation and that of her family, though she does not appear to care about anyone but herself." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I tried to take her in hand last April; I forbade her from attending assemblies and so forth until she started conducting herself as a young lady should… obviously it has not been successful. I had no idea that she had been writing to Lieutenant Wickham…" He trailed off, too exhausted and feeling far too ancient to deal with his youngest daughter's latest misbehavior.

    After a moment of silence, the Colonel spoke in a slightly more gentle tone than before. "Sir, my own sister Lucy was much the same. As the daughter of an Earl, she was raised in much stricter circumstances--nurses and governesses and so forth--but even those did not keep her from acting out and embarrassing herself and the family."

    Longbourn's master studied Mr. Darcy's cousin. As much as he wished to bury all the unpleasantness and act as if it had never occurred, he was forced to admit that he could no longer do so. Indeed, it was that habit which had caused much of the current mess. He sighed. "Very well, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Though I highly doubt that your sister was stupid enough to leave behind her family and friends and throw herself into the power of a known seducer and blackmailer bound for London." He sighed again. "What do you suggest? Send her away, I assume?"

    Closest to the door, Colonel Fitzwilliam might have heard a small sob from the hall but he was too focused on summarizing what his knew of ladies' seminaries. Lucky for Mr. Bennet, this was surprisingly extensive for a single gentleman who had spent most of his life in the army; Richard had assisted his parents in finding an appropriate school for his younger sister, and then later supplemented this knowledge when he and Darcy decided that Georgiana would benefit from the increased society of a lady's seminary after her father passed away.

    Meanwhile, the youngest Miss Bennet had burst into tears and turned to retreat upstairs. Unfortunately, as she ran up the stairs, she was forced to give way to her elder sisters. Jane swept by, still upset over her dresses, and gave Lydia a look of such anger and disgust as the girl would never have expected to see in her usually forgiving eldest sister.

    With a sob, Lydia turned away and raced up the stairs, disappearing into the room she was sharing with her female cousins. Elizabeth paused and looked back after her younger sister, noting distantly that for the first time she could remember, the girl had not slammed the door behind her.

    "Leave her, Lizzy. It is no use; she will not listen." Jane Bennet had reached her limit and wanted only to sit quietly with her family and share some pleasant, undemanding conversation. Perhaps work on the handkerchiefs she was embroidering for Charles, she thought to herself.

    Elizabeth managed a short nod, understanding her sister better than Jane did herself. In some ways, her elder sister was more like Mr. Bennet than Lizzy, for all that he professed her to be his favorite. Both would happily ignore any unpleasantness until forced to face it, and then attempt to forget about the trouble as quickly as possible when it seemed solved, temporarily or not.

    "You go ahead, Jane. I'll just go up and make sure that Lydia doesn't begin ripping apart Amelia's doll clothes now that she is finished with ours."

    Miss Bennet's lips thinned but she nodded slightly and continued down the stairs.

    Elizabeth sighed but forced herself to climb the stairs and knock softly on the door that Lydia had disappeared behind. Hearing a noise beyond, she opened the door and stepped into the room; she was met with the sight of her youngest sister sitting in the corner on one of the twin beds, arms wrapped around a pillow and tears rolling down her cheeks.

    "Oh, Lizzy… They're going to send me away…" wailed Lydia. "Do you think they will lock me up in a cage?"

    Noting that her sister seemed honestly frightened, Elizabeth studied her for a minute before sitting down on the bed opposite her. She had seen Lydia show anger, self-pity, and an unbelievable level of callowness; even Mr. Wickham's rejection had seemed to hurt her pride more than her heart. This was the first time she had shown any hint of understanding that there could be consequences to her actions.

    Thinking carefully, Elizabeth asked in an even tone, "What did you expect to happen?

    Surprised enough by the question to pause in her blubbering, Lydia stared at her for a moment before shrugging. "I don't know… go to some parties, I suppose, and then go back to Longbourn." She brightened. "At least Meryton will be more fun now that the regiment has returned."

    Elizabeth studied her sister with disbelief. "Lydia, surely you understand that you shall not be attending any parties, much less socializing with the regiment."

    Lydia's temporary brightness wilted. "Because I am to be sent away." She sniffled a little more into an already damp handkerchief. After a few minutes, she looked up at her older sister, sorrow and bewilderment plain in her expression. "But why, Lizzy?? I don't understand… aren't we supposed to smile and flirt and catch ourselves husbands?"

    "I don't much like your way of getting a husband, thank you very much." Elizabeth bit her tongue; ridicule was unlikely to help Lydia understand the situation. She sighed and pressed her hands together. "I apologize for that, Lydia. You asked an honest question and I should not have mocked you."

    There was a moment of silence, during which Elizabeth tried to think of how best to explain the facts of life to the sister she knew least well. Finally she spoke. "In many ways, you and I have a similar fault… or rather, we both display some of the worst aspects of our parents, rather than their virtues. I, like our father, look to mock and ridicule instead of looking for the good in people. And you…"

    She eyed Lydia carefully, uncertain that her sister would accept criticism. However, Lydia's brows were wrinkled and she seemed to be making an honest effort to understand. "And I? I am too much like Mama?"

    Reminding herself that Lydia had never had the advantage of spending time with the Gardiners and seeing how a proper lady behaved in society beyond Meryton, Elizabeth shut her eyes to think for a moment before speaking. "I love Mama, but her behavior is… not always in accordance with what is acceptable in higher circles. Married to Papa--an established landowner and gentleman--she is somewhat protected. Our neighbors may laugh at her behind her back and pity the rest of us for the embarrassment she causes, but Meryton is a small enough society that they will not cut us unless she does something truly unforgiveable."

    Her eyes turned to pin Lydia where she was sitting. "Her daughters do not have that protection. We have nothing but our good name, Lydia. No dowry to tempt a gentleman, no possibility of an inheritance."

    "But you and Jane are both engaged," protested Lydia.

    "And have you ever seen either of us flirt as blatantly as you do with the officers, or any other man who catches your eye?" Elizabeth's tone was tart as the subject came closer to her heart.

    Lydia studied the pillow in her arms. "No, but you must have… they're marrying you, after all. How else do you make a man fall in love with you?"

    Elizabeth could not restrain herself; she bounced to her feet and paced the length of the room, though it was barely five paces across and she had to dodge the two beds. Finally she stood by the window and, staring out over the mews beyond, sighed deeply. "Lydia, you are confusing love and lust. Do you understand the difference?" She was oddly relieved to see her sister blush deeply.

    "Lizzy… you shouldn't speak of… it isn't proper…" said Lydia weakly.

    "Not proper!?!" cried Elizabeth in disbelief. "What did you think was going to happen when you got into that curricle with Wickham?"

    Lydia's lower lip trembled. "I thought he loved me and wanted to marry me! We were going to elope to Gretna Green! I would have been the first of my sisters to be married…"

    "Don't be simple, Lydia," said her sister scornfully. "London is not on the way to Scotland from Hertfordshire. George Wickham had run up over a thousand pounds in gambling debts to his fellow officers, not to mention the unpaid accounts he surely left behind with the tradesmen in Brighton. He didn't have the money to pay his debts so he decided to abandon his post--you do understand that that is considered treason, do you not? You were merely there to be an amusing bed warmer until he tired of you. He would have deserted you in some flea ridden public house; left you alone, defenseless and penniless in a London gutter with nothing but the dress on your back."

    She turned to stand directly before her sister, arms folded across her chest and a fierce look in her eye. "Do you understand what I am saying, Lydia? Even if he did not get you with child, your reputation would have been ruined by staying the night alone with a man, and your sisters' by association. No respectable gentlemen would wish to marry any of us and society would have shunned us. Do you understand, Lydia?"

    Lydia's head was spinning. "But Lizzy, that wouldn't have happened… we were to be married…"

    Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the girl's resistance to reality. "You might have thought so when you climbed into Wickham's curricle, but surely you cannot believe it still? When we caught you, you could barely stand for all the liquor you had drunk and Wickham was taking you up to a bedchamber. What do you think was going to happen? He would have taken you to his bed, willing or not."

    Lydia paled but her sister pressed on. "Do you understand me? Wickham is a strong, fit man; even if you had the sense to protest, he would have held you down, hurt you. That is lust, not love, that your flirting inspired."

    Tired from her anger, Elizabeth moved to sit down on the bed again.

    After some minutes of consideration, Lydia spoke very quietly. "Are you sure, Lizzy? I've stolen kisses before, from Wickham and Carter and… oh, so many others that I cannot even name. Nothing like this has ever happened before."

    Elizabeth stared at her sister; she had long recognized Lydia's poor behavior but she had had no idea that the girl had been so… loose. Finally she was able to regroup and answer her sister's question, though Lydia had seen her shock clearly enough. "You have been very, very lucky, Lydia; that is all I can say. Had any one of those men spoken of it--boasted of it over an ale in the pub--your reputation would have been lost."

    "But wouldn't he have married me then?"

    Lizzy rolled her eyes at her sister's continued ignorance and tried again. "No, Lydia. No gentleman wishes to marry a woman who has lost her virtue. In some instances, a man might be found and bribed to marry such a woman, but Papa has no money put aside for such a thing, and our dowries are too small to tempt any but the poorest clerk or farmer."

    "A farmer!?!" croaked Lydia.

    Elizabeth studied her sister; though she disliked gossiping about the unfortunates of others, it occurred to her that in this instance it might do some good. "Do you remember Hester Purvis? She was a year older than Jane. The family moved away from Meryton when she was eighteen."

    Buoyed by the memory, Lydia smirked. "Oh yes! She was ruined--everyone was talking about it!" But then her eyes grew large, making the connection. "I didn't even know what it meant… just that she wasn't as good as us any more…"

    Taking in the girl's stunned look, Elizabeth felt much of her anger melt away, leaving only sadness. "There was an assembly at the inn at Meryton… just like the ones you and I have attended so often. It was a hot evening and Hester was feeling light-headed, so she stepped out on the balcony to get some air. She thought she went alone; it did not even occur to her to ask one of her friends to accompany her. Unfortunately, her last dance partner followed her. He was a young gentleman, a guest of the family at Netherfield, and had drunk too much wine. Before Hester could evade him, he had pressed her into the corner and began kissing her, ignoring her protests, or perhaps in his drunkenness he thought that they were words of encouragement."

    Elizabeth paused for a moment, preparing herself to retell the event which had birthed much of her distrust and dislike of her mother. "I was paying particular attention to the gentleman, you see, for he was to partner me for the next." She sighed, wondering (not for the first time) if the entire fiasco had been her fault.

    "Unfortunately, I was standing with Mama and made the mistake of telling her. She insisted that we go after him when he stepped out of the room--that perhaps he had forgotten his obligation to me. It was one of the first assemblies I'd attended since coming out, so I did not argue with her."

    Lizzy sighed, wishing yet again that she had had the sense to divert her mother's attention to something else. "When Mama saw them, she began shrieking that Hester was ruined… that the man had to marry her. It was as though the entire room went silent except for her voice. Everyone heard her… and then saw Hester and the young gentleman come in from the balcony, both flushed and Hester's dress not quite right. Her family took her home immediately, but there was no way to cover it up."

    Lydia's eyes were wide. "Did he marry her? Is that why they moved away?"

    Her sister responded in a harsh voice. "No, Lydia. He was already engaged to an heiress from Devonshire; he had no interest in breaking that even if the contracts had not already been signed. He left Hertfordshire a day or two later with barely an explanation to Mr. Purvis. Meanwhile, Mama and Aunt Philip's gossip made it impossible for Hester and her family. The Purvis's were cut at every turn; no one would invite them into their homes and whispers followed them when ever they were seen in Meryton."

    Elizabeth was faintly pleased to see that Lydia looked almost as ill as she felt. "Oh Lord, Lizzy… I remember teasing them myself! Kitty, Maria, and I were playing by the road and saw the Misses Purvis's walk by. We called them harlots… I didn't even know what the word meant!"

    Elizabeth sighed sadly. "You probably heard it from our mother and Mrs. Phillips, for they did nothing to hold their tongues. They called them wanton and worse, though they always smiled at their faces."

    After some minutes of contemplation, Lydia asked plaintively. "What happened to them, Lizzy? Did they have to work as governesses?"

    Elizabeth smiled sorrowfully at her younger sister. "You say that as if it were the worst thing in the world, Lydia. No, no family would hire a lady with a tarnished reputation to teach their children."

    "Then what?" Lydia looked truly frightened now.

    "Mr. Purvis had inherited a small house outside of Newcastle from an uncle. He moved the family there and leased Purvis Lodge to whomever would pay. Hester was sent to live with cousins in Edinburgh and took their name so as to conceal her identity. She still exchanges letters with Jane every year or so. The last we heard, she had married a widower with four children."

    "Was he rich? Does he have an estate?" Lydia was still looking for a fairytale ending.

    "No, Lydia. He is a forty-year-old clerk at a brewery who needed a healthy woman to keep his home and raise his children. It is no love match; Hester wrote that she respected him and felt blessed to have gained a respectable husband and home." Lizzy fell silent, struck by the similarity between Hester and Charlotte Lucas' sentiments regarding their marriages.

    After a few minutes, Lydia sighed. "I had no idea things like that happened in sleepy little Meryton. Mrs. Forster's life seemed so romantic and exciting… traveling and, and… well, doing things."

    Elizabeth studied her little sister, trying to understand her. "The life of an officer's wife might be exciting, or at least interesting, at times, but those are few and far between. There are also long intervals of drudgery and, unless there is an inheritance, often poverty. Have you thought about that, Lydia? It would mean living in rented houses, doing most of the cooking and even the cleaning yourself because you can't afford servants… Packing up and moving every few months if you want to be with your husband. It isn't all balls and parties, Lydia, do you understand that?"

    The younger girl tried to protest but her confidence had been shaken and Elizabeth was able to counter every argument with bald facts. Finally, Lydia gave up and accepted that her fantasy of being an officer's wife was just that… a fantasy… and her mind turned toward the life she did know.

    "But Lizzy… I can't sit quietly and embroider screens or net purses for the rest of my life… I'll explode! I just can't sit still for that long… they can send me to my room but I feel as though I shall start climbing the walls. When Papa sent me to my room at Longbourn, I opened the window and climbed down the rose trellis… I went into town and bought myself sweets… they weren't even very good," wailed Lydia.

    Elizabeth studied her youngest sister thoughtfully. For the first time, it occurred to her that of the five, Lydia was most like herself in energy. They both had a nearly uncontrollable need to be doing things, while most other girls seemed content to sit and apply themselves to feminine pursuits that Society circumscribed as appropriate.

    Lizzy reached out to take her sister's hand and spoke in a far friendlier tone than she had used all afternoon. "Nor can I, in all honesty." She paused and then made a decision. "Lydia, why don't you come with me on my walk tomorrow morning? I warn you, I plan to go early so that I can be back in time to help Aunt Maddy get everything ready for the party. I shall show you how I work off some energy so that I'm not climbing the walls in the afternoon."

    "Is it safe?"

    "I just go to the park across the street and I always take one of uncle's menservants. Bert thinks I'm rather odd, I'm afraid; I walk very quickly." She looked at her sister with laughing eyes. "That is why I go early, so that no one will see me." Her glimmer of smile burst into a conspiratorial giggle and she whispered, "When I'm at Longbourn, I run!"

    Lydia looked at her with wide eyes. "Really? I always thought you were sitting on a bench, reading those heavy tombs of Papa's, or thinking deep thoughts to amuse him with."

    Elizabeth laughed shortly before realizing that her sister was completely serious. "Oh, goodness no, Lydia. I go to be by myself... sometimes to get away from Papa and his sarcasm, or from Mama and her nerves. But most often I go simply to walk through the woods, to climb Oakum Mount, to run down the hill and back up again. Whatever I have to do so that I can sit quietly when required later."

    The sisters were silent for some minutes as Lydia considered this and Elizabeth allowed herself to daydream of what it would be like to have all of Pemberley to explore. She recalled herself to the present only when Lydia spoke quietly. "I would like to come with you tomorrow morning, if you will let me, Lizzy."

    Elizabeth grinned. "Excellent! I shall tell the maid to wake you at seven." She was pleased when Lydia did not seem too shocked by the early hour.

    Before she could tease her about it, though, they both heard footsteps on the stairs. Seeing Lydia shrink slightly, still holding the pillow before her, Elizabeth stood. "I shall tell everyone that you need some time alone. Do you wish to join the family for dinner, or would you rather I had a tray sent up?"

    Lydia looked up at her with pitiful gratitude. "Oh, thank you so much, Lizzy. May I stay here tonight? I can come down if you think the Gardiners will be angry… but I'd rather be alone… I'd like to think a bit."

    Elizabeth just nodded and moved over to hug her sister. "I shall explain so that they understand. Get some rest, dear sister."

    Just as she was closing the door behind her, Lizzy caught a glimpse of tears rolling down her sister's cheeks.

    Chapter 28. Visits to Gracechurch Street.

    Posted on 2010-11-18

    August 1818

    By staying at the Darcys' townhouse on Grosvenor Square, Mr. Bingley guaranteed himself a comfortable, friendly living arrangement, a housemate who was just as eager as himself to visit the denizens of a certain domicile on Gracechurch Street, and, perhaps most importantly, a certain degree of protection from his own family. In addition to Darcy's tale of how Miss Bingley had barged into his study demanding to have the story of their engagements to the Bennet sisters denied immediately, Charles had accumulated a stack of angry letters from his younger sister.

    Despite the pleasant sanctuary that Derwent House provided, Bingley knew he would have to face his family, and soon. He hoped that by controlling the timing and duration of his exposure to them, he could overcome his innate horror of conflict and hold firm to his resolutions.

    The Hurst townhouse was on a leafy side street off Cavendish Square. Mr. Hurst's parents rarely left their estate in Sussex, while their son and his wife held no fond memories of that part of the country and so maintained their primary residence in town. After Louisa's parents and elder brother had perished in a carriage accident, it had seemed only natural for her younger brother and sister to come stay with them. However, after three years, it was beginning to try the couple's patience.

    When Charles entered the Hurst's drawing room, Caroline did not even wait for the butler to shut the door behind him before she began her assault.

    After trying to interrupt several times, Charles finally caught Caroline's boney finger before she could poke him in the chest again. "Enough, Caroline!" Seeing she was about to speak again, he repeated more loudly, "Enough, I said!!!"

    Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst both showed surprise at their brother's angry tone and even Mr. Hurst looked up from his wine. Charles sighed, thoroughly uncomfortable with confrontation, but then he thought of Jane and repressed his innate impulse to apologize. Instead, he did his best to keep his tone strong and even.

    "On the fifteenth of September, I will marry Jane Bennet. Her father has sanctioned our engagement, the contracts are being drawn up, and the banns will be read. Jane will be my wife and, as Mrs. Bingley, she will be mistress of my house and my estate, as well as of my heart."

    "But Charles…" whined Caroline.

    "No--there will be no more discussion on the matter. I have made my decision and it is final. Now you have a decision to make. If you cannot treat Jane and her family with respect, then you will not be welcome in my home."

    Louisa's eyebrows rose at the resolution displayed by her younger brother. In her mind's eye, he was still the sweet, happy little boy who had always been eager to accede to everyone else's wishes. With blond curls and a sunny disposition, Charles had always been trying to make someone smile, be they family, servant, or beggar on the street. In contrast, Caroline had been an exquisitely beautiful child, fussed over and indulged by family and servants, like some sort of living china doll, leaving her good-natured and undemanding siblings in the background.

    Luckily for him, their father had had very clear ideas on the raising of boys, so while Charles was dearly loved, he was not as spoiled as his sister. John Bingley had desired to raise the stature of the family, so even as he groomed his eldest son to take over the family business and arranged for his elder daughter to marry one of his investor's sons, he sent Charles to boarding school and Caroline to a well-regarded London seminary. He had great hopes that both would learn to fit into a plane of society that he knew he himself would never be accepted into.

    Caroline felt none of her sister's pleasure at their brother's change in attitude. "Charles, you can't be serious. You would choose that little nobody over your own flesh and blood? What would Father say?"

    Bingley cocked his head and thought for a moment before responding. "I believe that our father would have loved Jane as much as I do, and welcomed her with open arms."

    Before Caroline could start up again, he looked her in the eye and continued in a harsher tone. "If you wish to be crass about it, Father would also be pleased that I, the son and grandson of tradesmen, am marrying a respectable gentlewoman whose father owns an estate that has been in their family for generations."

    Frustrated at having her every argument parried, Caroline spoke without thinking. "Why are you being so difficult? You know that I am only trying to look out for our best interests! Why won't you simply do as I say!?!

    His family would not have believed it possible, but Bingley's face became even more stern. He replied in a furious tone; "Caroline, you look out for no one but yourself. Your advice has everything to do with helping you claw your way into the first circles of Society, but when have you ever considered what I want?"

    "Charles, don't be silly! Everything I do is to make certain of your happiness."

    Bingley rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, Caro. Last winter, you separated me from Jane for no reason other than your own desire for me to marry someone of higher status so that your own connections would be improved."

    Miss Bingley's eyes narrowed to a slit as she spat, "You fool! She feels no affection for you--just for your money. All that syrupy sweetness is just an act; the moment she and her family get their claws into it, you shall have nothing!"

    He sat back slightly and considered her for a moment. "If that is what you truly see, then I can only pity you, Caroline. Jane is a sweet, gentle woman who sees only the good in those around her. You, Sister, have treated her despicably."

    When she began to protest, he spoke over her. "I know that you deceived us both, with omissions as well as outright falsehoods."

    Caroline flushed crimson, a particularly unattractive hue with her complexion. "Charles--are you calling me a liar? You would believe those artful Bennets over your own sister!?!"

    "If you wish to be frank about it, then yes, I do! Since we have been reunited, Jane and I have been completely open with each other. I know that you wrote her only twice, and in those notes you implied that I never had any serious intentions towards her. Thanks to you, she was convinced that I was only toying with her affections last fall, and that I was engaged to Miss Darcy, for God's sake! Meanwhile, she wrote to you four times from Hertfordshire and then twice from London, yet you told me on multiple occasions that you had heard nothing. When she visited here, you pretended that you had never received her letters and then rushed her back out the door. You waited three weeks before returning her call, Caroline! How can you possibly look me in the eye and say that you have been honest with me?!?"

    While Caroline tried to protest, abet rather disjointedly now that she had been caught in her lies, Mrs. Hurst studied her younger siblings carefully. She had not bothered to question her sister's determination to leave Hertfordshire, nor the younger woman's near constant slander of the Bennet family. However, from what little she remembered, Miss Jane Bennet had seemed a sweet girl and Louisa recalled that she had been present when the young lady had called in January.

    When Caroline finally paused in her harangue long enough to take a breath, Louisa spoke softly. "Charles, I do not know anything about missing letters, but I was here when Miss Bennet came to call on Caroline last winter."

    Both of her siblings turned to her and she sensed that even her husband had started at the sound of her voice. She wrinkled her brow. "Caroline did not mislead her about the poor timing of the visit; I remember distinctly that we were already dressed to go out and I had just called for the carriage when Jane was shown in."

    While her younger sister threw a victorious look at their brother, Louisa cocked her head again, trying to remember. "I was not… well that week. Caroline, I remember you saying that you would take the carriage and call on Miss Bennet and her aunt by yourself; it would have been Monday because I recall thinking that I might have caught a chill while sitting in church the day before."

    Unaccustomed to being called out on her fibs, Caroline attempted to cover with bravado. "Of course I returned the call, silly. I am not so lacking in breeding that I do not know proper etiquette for visiting an acquaintance."

    Louisa turned to her brother who was already shaking his head in disgust. "Waiting three weeks without a note and then appearing unannounced is not good form, Caro; even I know that."

    Louisa pursed her lips. She was mistress of this house and it did not sit well with her that a guest as polite and unassuming as Jane Bennet had been treated so poorly. "For my part, I apologize, Charles. I was not well or I would have accompanied our sister to call on Miss Bennet within the week of her visit. I can only claim ignorance as an excuse; it appears I was misinformed." Her sharp look toward Caroline was one that the younger lady recognized from childhood reprimands.

    While their sister was still sputtering from the rebuke, Louisa turned back to Charles, looking more like the capable young woman he remembered from childhood. After thinking a moment, she spoke. "Charles, could we invite Miss Bennet and her family for dinner to celebrate your engagement? I should like to get to know her better."

    Bingley ignored Caroline's derisive snort and studied his elder sister carefully. Deciding that she, at least, appeared sincere, he nodded slowly. "Thank you, Louisa. I shall speak with Jane about it." He paused. "Or you could speak to her yourself, if you are attending the engagement party that the Gardiners are holding for us tomorrow afternoon."

    There was a moment of silence while Mrs. Hurst cocked her head to the side. "I don't recall receiving an invitation. Are you certain that they sent one to us?"

    Charles looked her straight in the eye. "Mrs. Gardiner brought it by herself, as she was visiting a friend on the square last week. I know because I spoke to her about it just yesterday, when she inquired if you and Caroline would be attending. She did not receive any response, either positive or negative."

    An understanding look passed between Charles and Louisa before both turned disapproving eyes on Caroline.

    Miss Bingley spent some minutes on unsuccessful protests and explanations, varying from Mrs. Gardiner telling a falsehood to the Hursts' butler losing the note. Finally, Louisa had had enough and spoke over her in a voice that sounded very much like their mother's. "Oh enough, Caroline! We have both known you since you were born! Do you really think that you can put such stupid lies past us?"

    Caroline gaped like a fish until Louisa snapped. "What did you do with the letter, Caroline?"

    "I… I… dropped it in the fire." She had the grace to look embarrassed, though her sister suspected that the emotion had more to do with being caught than the deed itself.

    Charles stood abruptly and went to stare out of the window, unconsciously mimicking Mr. Darcy. Louisa merely stared at Caroline, wondering how far her sister's deceptions extended beyond Charles. Even Mr. Hurst seemed to have woken up and was eyeing Miss Bingley with even more dislike than usual.

    Before anyone could collect themselves, the Hursts' butler knocked on the door and announced that dinner was ready to be served.

    Charles turned back to the room and was clearly about to announce his intention to leave. Louisa stood and moved to her younger brother with hands outstretched. "Please stay, Charles. Please--I have seen so little of you these last months, and I should very much like to hear more about your plans with Miss Bennet."

    Charles looked at his elder sister carefully. Though he was furious with Caroline, he could not remember Louisa ever actively deceiving him or insulting the Bennets. She had not stood up to Caroline, but neither had he until recently.

    With a tight smile, he nodded and offered Louisa his arm. When Mr. Hurst quickly followed the pair out the door, Caroline was left alone in the drawing room. It was several minutes before she stood, still baffled at how her dominance over her siblings had seemingly evaporated over a single evening's conversation.

    Settled at the table, Louisa managed to keep up an easy conversation with her brother. After reassuring him that she and her husband, at least, would attend the Gardiners' engagement party, they talked a bit about the wedding. She smiled indulgently when Charles shared his idea of surprising Jane with a wedding trip to Paris and sent a sharp look at their sister when Caroline snorted. Upon hearing of his plan to host an engagement dinner at Netherfield the day before the wedding, Louisa immediately offered to act as hostess and her brother was happy to accept; Mr. Hurst even contributed that September would be an excellent time for some sport and offered to organize a hunting party for the gentlemen.

    "Do you plan to remain at Netherfield? The sport there was excellent." Inquired Mr. Hurst gruffly, as though unaccustomed to participating in dinner conversation at his own table.

    Buoyed by Louisa's support, Charles actually smiled. "We have not decided if we shall settle there permanently, but I am seeing the solicitor tomorrow to extend my lease for another year."

    There was a pause as the footmen removed the dishes and set the next course. Charles wrinkled his brow in thought and spoke as soon as the servants had departed. "Actually, that was the main issue I wished to discuss with you tonight." He eyed Caroline warily. "I have ordered the Waverley Street house to be opened up. Jane and I shall live there when we are in London."

    His concern proved well-founded as Caroline's silver clattered to the table and she sputtered with outrage, "You are taking that little strumpet to live at our parents' house?!? You can't! How dare you! I won't allow it!"

    Charles stood and stepped deliberately around the table until he stood before his younger sister, leaning forward so that she could not avoid his furious eyes. "You will not use such terms to describe my fiancé, do you understand? Never again."

    When Miss Bingley pursed her lips, much like a small child about to throw a screaming tantrum, Charles leaned in further. Suddenly she was struck by the fact that her brother was a tall, fit young man who currently looked both furious and threatening.

    "Listen to me, Caroline, and listen well, for this is the last time I shall say it. I love Jane Bennet and I am marrying her on the fifteenth of September. My first allegiance is to her. Our father's will places you in my charge until your twenty-fifth birthday. As we all know, that hallowed event shall occur this February, after which I am no longer legally responsible for you."

    Noting the look of comprehension flashing though his sister's eyes, Bingley stood and returned to his own chair. After seating himself, he looked at her again and felt not even a flicker of affection. "Upon your birthday, I shall arrange that you have full access to your inheritance. Your actions and attitudes between now and then shall determine whether I dump you on the curb with only the clothes on your back, or if I allow you to continue residing as a guest in my house and if I continue to emend your allowance and sponsor you in Society."

    Even after all that his sister had done, it saddened Charles to see that it was only this threat that seemed to affect her. Turning to Louisa, he saw his pain reflected and took strength in her understanding.

    With a slight nod at Charles to show him her approval, Louisa asked, "So, you shall be opening up the Waverley Street house?"

    After noting that Caroline was biting her lip to remain silent, he replied evenly. "Yes; I wrote to the Bartons from Hertfordshire informing them of our plans. I shall take Jane and her family to meet them and tour the house on Friday. I have every hope that Mr. and Mrs. Barton will agree to stay on as butler and housekeeper, but it will take some time to fill out the remainder of the staff."

    Louisa nodded, her eyes far away. "I am afraid that I did not pay much attention at the time. Were all the other staff let go after the accident?"

    Charles reached out a hand and they shared a moment of grief. "Yes; I should say again how much I appreciate you and Hurst allowing us to stay here. The house seemed so… wrong… with only Caroline and myself."

    Louisa squeezed her brother's hand and even Mr. Hurst nodded at the younger man in understanding. "Not at all, no problem at all."

    His wife spoke even more softly, "We all needed each other."

    After some minutes of silence, Charles shook himself. "I have many fond memories of that house when we were growing up, and I hope that Jane and I shall make more there in the future with our own family."

    He chose to ignore the sniff from Caroline's direction and turned to Louisa. "Although our father's will left the house and all its contents to me, I am sure that there are some things you will wish to have. Jane and I shall be doing some redecorating, of course. Would you be able to visit the house this week? We can decide on what you wish to have." This time he included Caroline in his invitation.

    The look on Miss Bingley's face was not pleasant, but at least she managed to not give voice to her fury. She even managed a nod when her sister arranged for them to spend some hours at their childhood home in two days time.

    How dare Charles offer to allow her to choose some mementos from their parents' house, as though it were not as much hers as his!!! Caroline barely managed to hold her tongue; she suspected that her brother's threats were not idle and with Louisa seeming to support him... It was better to remain silent and bide her time. Surely this newfound willfulness of Charles' would not last. When he softened (and she was certain that he would), she would be there to take control again.

    The remainder of the meal was carried on pleasantly enough between Charles and Louisa with occasional contributions from Mr. Hurst. They resolutely ignored Caroline's silence, though the company's mood lightened perceptibly when she claimed a headache and retired immediately after the meal.

    Miss Bingley did not sleep much that night. Her maid was shaken awake near two and sent running for fresh pens and ink. Caroline poured out her anger in her diary, leaving blots and slashes in the paper from her furious detailing of the stupidity of her relations. Around three, her anger finally subsided and she began making new plans. If some of those plans were less than practical--having her maid secretly remove stitching from Jane and Eliza's gowns so that the seams burst during their engagement party, for one--they did give her a great deal of pleasure. It was near dawn when she decided that poisoning Mr. Hurst's port might cause more problems than it was worth and she finally settled into her bed.

    Caroline slept most of the day away but managed to appear, properly attired, in time to accompany her sister and brother-in-law to their brother's engagement party. If her sour face did not display any of the normal happiness that might be expected at such an event, at least she kept her thoughts to herself.

    When the Hursts and Miss Bingley were welcomed into the Gardiners' home on Gracechurch Street, three very different women found themselves facing one another in the receiving line. The events surrounding Miss Bingley's visit to the same house the previous winter were remembered by Mrs. Gardiner, Miss Bennet, and Miss Bingley, although in strikingly different ways.

    When Jane Bennet had traveled to London with the Gardiners after Christmas, her avowed purpose had been to assist her aunt and uncle with their young children. Not a week had passed, however, before the embarrassing echoes of Mrs. Bennet's constant wailing over Mr. Bingley faded, and Elizabeth's assurances of that gentleman's love raised her spirits. Jane had begun to believe that seeing Mr. Bingley in London might not be such a bad thing.

    She sent two notes to the Hurst's home where she understood Miss Bingley to be staying. After two weeks with no reply, Jane wondered aloud if she had written the address incorrectly, or perhaps Caroline was not staying with the Hursts and her letters had not been forwarded. Mrs. Gardiner had suggested that Jane call in person and even recommended the following Tuesday when she herself had an appointment to call on favorite cousin who lived on Cavendish Square, less than a block from the Hursts' address.

    When that Tuesday dawned, Miss Bennet spent rather longer on her toilette than might be expected for a call on a common and indifferent acquaintance. Although she was looking forward to visiting with Miss Bingley again, Jane could not help but hope that she might also catch sight of Mr. Bingley.

    On the appointed day, Mrs. Gardiner and her niece were welcomed into the house of Mrs. Emma Watson. That lady had known Jane since she was a young girl and was pleased to see her, but when it was mentioned that Miss Bennet had friends living nearby, she was excused. The two older women laughed at her eagerness as Jane departed with her uncle's manservant in tow. Mrs. Watson gave her friend an odd look when the Hursts were mentioned, but their attention was soon given over to the fundraiser they were planning for a favorite charity--a school for the education of girls.

    The two ladies were deep in discussion when Jane returned not fifteen minutes later. They commiserated with her for a few moments--she had met her friends only briefly as Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were just leaving for an appointment--but soon turned their attention back to the charity. Their energy encouraged Jane to forget her disappointment for a time and soon she was contributing ideas to the benefit.

    Later that evening, Jane explained that she expected Miss Bingley and her sister to call soon, although they had not set a date. However, days passed and January turned into February. The weather was poor and the children were delighted to have their dear cousin to play with when they could not go to the park. Seeing traces of melancholy in Jane's gentle manners, Mrs. Gardiner drew her niece into the housekeeping, charity events, as well as various small gatherings of friends.

    Persuaded by Jane's gentle optimism, Mrs. Gardiner had been swayed to believe that there was some honest reason for the three-week delay before the Bingley sisters returned her visit. Thus, when Miss Bingley alone was announced, she was shown into the family sitting room. Mrs. Gardiner's thinking was that, as the lady had neither sent a note forewarning them of her appearance, nor had she made the effort to discover which were Mrs. Gardiner's usual "mornings in", she should not expect to be treated with all pomp and circumstance of a formal call. Indeed, Jane's sweet remembrances had convinced her aunt that Caroline Bingley was a dear friend who had even nursed Jane for some days when she fell ill at Netherfield.

    Madeleine Gardiner saw that she had misjudged the situation very wrongly the moment Miss Bingley was shown into their second floor sitting room. Jane was all that was genuine in her welcome and introduction. The other lady, however, swept her eyes around the cozy room, noting the comfortably worn furniture chosen for ease rather than fashion, the pile of children's blocks on the rug, and several stacks of books laid about.

    "I am so happy to see you again," said Jane kindly, not recognizing her dear friend's demeanor. "Did you have any difficulty finding the address?"

    Miss Bingley accepted a cup of tea but made no motion to drink it. "My driver had a great deal of trouble--our family never visits this… area. I quite feared for my safety at times." In her defense, Caroline had been taken along a rather circuitous route by her brother's new driver. In his ignorance of London's streets, the man had driven the carriage closer to the Thames dockyards than the Gardiner's might have directed her.

    Mrs. Gardiner recognized what must have happened and attempted to improve the opinion of her niece's guest. "Ah, you must have gone too far south on Gracechurch Street, toward the river. That area can be a bit rough. But you need not worry here on Corbet Court. My husband's father bought this house when he was a child, so now we have a third generation of Gardiners growing up here. We would not like to think of moving, to lose so many interesting neighbors… and such excellent proximity to the shops!" Mrs. Gardiner directed this last tease to her niece who had, in her melancholy over Mr. Bingley's disappearance, lately sustained herself by buying gifts for all her family members and even the occasional trinket for herself.

    Of course, Miss Bingley was eager to misunderstand and her response was spoken with the greatest condescension. "Ah, yes. I suppose it would be important to your family to be close to such things." Her tone implied that all the Gardiners, including the children, were likely working at some barely legal business in a fishmonger's basement somewhere nearby.

    Mrs. Gardiner's good breeding prevented her from giving her guest the rebuke that the lady so richly deserved. However, the only way to keep her temper from erupting was to remain silent, so she left Jane to carry on the conversation.

    Even Jane had picked up on some of Miss Bingley's unspoken criticism, so she turned them to the safer topic of the Hursts' health. After agreeing that Mr. Hurst was just as ever and insinuating that Mrs. Hurst was happy to be spending so much time with "dear Georgiana," Caroline made a few more pointed comments regarding her brother's growing intimacy with Miss Darcy. After staying barely ten minutes, Miss Bingley rose to leave, having drunk no tea and acting as though she would need to burn her gown after sitting on so unfashionable a sofa.

    Mrs. Gardiner and Jane fare welled their visitor from the sitting room and allowed her to be seen to the front door by a maid. Had Caroline been less desirous to leave as quickly as possible, she might have peaked into the much more impressive first floor drawing room that the Gardiners used to entertain, or the formal dining room whose chandelier would have made her drool. However, Miss Bingley had seen exactly what she wanted to see-- a room with no evidence of fashion or fortune--and she departed without a second glance.

    Her report of the call to Mr. Darcy only days before that gentleman departed for Kent might have affected the poor wording of his marriage proposal to a certain young lady just after Easter.

    As a result of her previous visit, Caroline was wholly unprepared for the tasteful, elegant rooms that she was shown into for the Gardiners' party in honor of their nieces' engagements. That there were so many fashionable people present produced a sour taste in the young lady's mouth even as she pasted on a smile. The feeling of queasiness increased as she was introduced to several prominent politicians, artists, writers, and, to her deep dismay, a countess who called Mrs. Gardiner by first name.

    After receiving the sincere congratulations from neighbors of the Hursts, a family who had barely deigned nod to her previously, Mrs. Hurst drew her sister to an unoccupied corner. "What on Earth were you speaking of to say that the Gardiners' house was dowdy and cheaply furnished?! These rooms are everything that is elegant! And they are clearly not without connections! Why, Emma Watson is here, and you know she never puts a foot wrong in society."

    Caroline nearly wailed. "But I never saw these rooms! They had me brought up to a sitting room on the second floor that looked out over the street. They were trying to trick me!"

    But her elder sister was already shaking her head. "No Caroline; you only looked to see what you wanted to see. I would venture a guess that Mrs. Gardiner received you in her private sitting room, where the family gathers. Oh, Lord! They invited you into the family quarters, treated you as a dear friend, and you did everything but cut them direct."

    Caroline's eyes were wide and she could not seem to frame an argument to her sister's words. "But… but…"

    "No excuses, Sister. We shall speak about it later. For now, wipe that sour patch look off your face and attempt to be pleasant and agreeable, particularly to our hostess and new sister." Louisa turned on her heel and left her younger sister alone in the corner, moving directly to Mrs. Gardiner and proceeding to compliment that lady on her table.

    Caroline's head was reeling as she began to take in her surroundings with fresh eyes.

    Not long after, Caroline made her way to her brother's side. Although she had recognized her mistaken assessment of the Gardiners, she had not yet learned to regret her treatment of her brother and his association with their niece. "Charles; I have a headache. You must take me home immediately."

    Charles Bingley looked at his sister in disbelief. Even after all Caroline had done to hurt Jane and mislead him, she thought that she could order him about at her whim? He took a sip of punch, hoping it would loosen his throat. "I am sorry to hear that you are unwell, Caroline, but you will have to find another way home if you decide to leave now. This is an engagement party in my honor, and I will not be departing for some hours." Not wishing to say any more in public, Charles turned his back on his stunned sister and moved to stand beside Jane and greet a newly arrived guest.

    Chapter 29. A Modest Modista.

    Posted on 2010-11-25

    August 1818

    Elizabeth Bennet gritted her teeth. She was quite certain that if she allowed herself to speak to the supercilious woman before her, she would let loose such a stream of invectives that would shock the lowest seamstress. Unfortunately, she was well aware that such was not the best approach for the future Mrs. Darcy to take upon her introduction to one of the most sought-after modistas in London. Even if Lizzy was beginning to wonder why Madame Claudette was so popular.

    Madame was a big-bosomed, raven-haired woman who sized up her customers with a sharp eye for how much coin they could spend and how much wool she could pull over their eyes. Her favorite patrons were a pair of dueling duchesses who were constantly trying to out do one another. Both had such allowances for their wardrobes as to be infinite for all intents and purposes, and so little confidence in their own taste that, each month, they allowed Madame to dismiss all of their "old" gowns as beyond hope, whether or not they had been worn yet, and commission an entirely new wardrobe.

    Claudette's influence over the two duchesses had begun upon their nearly simultaneous marriages ten years before and had allowed her to climb to the top of London fashion. She had expanded her shop so that she now employed a small army of lesser seamstresses and milliners. She knew all the latest gossip as well as all the old, and had no compunction about using her knowledge to cement her power. She might not be a member of High Society (a fact she secretly resented), but more than once she had had a hand in forcing the exit of one who was.

    Unlike most modistas who specialized in ball gowns and evening dresses (leaving the clothing of girls not yet out to lesser seamstresses), Madame Claudette had recognized those girls for precisely what they were: future customers. She identified a few of the wealthiest and highest born, lavished attention on them, and allowed those girls to feel as if they were getting a little glimpse into the adult world that awaited them. In return, she had great hopes of their continued patronage when they grew out of pastel muslins and were allowed to wear the rich silks and satins that they had coveted throughout their youth.

    Madame Claudette had grown up poor, cold, and hungry while the French Revolution destroyed her family's place in Parisian society. She had hated it and her primary goal in life was to siphon off as much money as possible from those born with it, regardless of nationality. The customer must always have the richest silks, the finest lace, the most expensive of everything. That she was paid not only for the designing and sewing of the gowns, but also a percentage for the fabrics and notions she bought from the textile warehouses was not something that they needed to know, but which certainly served to feather her own nest exceedingly well.

    Georgiana Darcy led the two Miss Bennets and their aunt into Madame's shop at precisely half past ten in the morning. Although they had an appointment, Claudette gave the girl only a nod of acknowledgement and left her and her party to cool their heels while she finished speaking with another customer.

    Miss Darcy was one of the young ladies that Claudette was grooming to be a future milch cow. The girl had a nice figure and was easy to fit, but most importantly she was quiet, easily convinced that the modista knew what was best, and very, very rich. Best of all, the girl had no close female relatives to influence her; only an exceedingly indulgent, if conservative, elder brother. The Derbyshire bachelor had come with his much younger sister the first time she had visited the shop and Claudette had done everything in her power to convince him that the thirteen-year-old orphan would receive only the best of care in her shop.

    After that, Miss Darcy had always arrived with a governess or companion but her brother paid the bills with admirable promptness. They might be only prim little muslin frocks for now, but Claudette's eyes glazed over at the thought of the coming year when Miss Darcy would make her debut in Society. Then she would be allowed out of the side room where such patterns and fabrics appropriate for girls were kept, and led into the main rooms where the shelves glowed with a rainbow of silks and ribbons, lace and velvets, and floor models displaying whatever gowns Claudette deemed to be the mode du jour.

    The modista had been worried when she heard that Mr. Darcy was to be married; concerned that this unknown Mrs. Darcy might influence her new sister toward a different dressmaker. However, her anxieties had been assuaged the previous afternoon after an unexpected visit by two of her favorite customers. She knew quite well that Lady Almida Fitzwilliam and Miss Caroline Bingley were not friends, however desperately the latter might wish it so. Claudette had very nearly laughed aloud when the pair had descended from the Fitzwilliam carriage together and entered her shop. Miss Bingley had always had more money than taste and was willing to spend any amount to camouflage her roots in trade.

    Lady Almida was more of a mystery to Claudette. That lady was the only child of a wealthy Baron, raised with seemingly every advantage except family. As best as the Frenchwoman could gather, Almida Warren had grown up as something of a tomboy, allowed to run wild on the family's estate in Essex until the death of her parents. Her care was left to an older bachelor uncle who had no idea what to do with a female child, so promptly sent her off to boarding school.

    School had been a great shock to Almida Warren. She was quick and well-read for her age, but the older girls (and almost all were older when she arrived) had sneered at her simple, country styles and unfashionably direct manners. At Christmas, she had spent a month at her uncle's house in London and determinedly set about remaking herself, starting with a long session at Madame Claudette's. Within the year, Lady Almida had become the most fashionable girl at Miss Minchin's seminary; the girl whom all the younger students (such as Miss Caroline Bingley) desperately wished to mimic. A compliment from her was like manna from heaven, and a cut worse than death.

    In short, Lady Almida and her clique had ruled the school (and later, the first circles of London Society), and Madame Claudette had the distinction (and the recompense) of dressing Lady Almida. When the girl had married the Earl of Matlock's eldest son, Lord Edward Fitzwilliam, Viscount Ashbourne, in a sensational London wedding that was the highlight of the Season, her prestige had increased further. Whether any of it made her happy was impossible to guess.

    Lady Almida had been piqued when her mother-in-law had summoned her to attend Darcy's engagement party with the other Fitzwilliam ladies at a house near Cheapside, of all places. She resented the Countess' precedence in Society and her continuing control over the Matlock households.

    When she caught sight of a sour-faced Caroline Bingley at the Gardiners' party, Almida had smiled for the first time all day. The girl had obviously just been delivered a set down by her brother and hadn't the sense to cover her chagrin.

    The Viscountess had only exchanged a nod with the girl Darcy was to marry, but she had not been impressed. Granted, Lady Almida would never have been inclined to like Darcy's bride, whomever she was. That gentleman had failed to fall at her own feet when she was introduced to Society, and therefore any lady who did win his attention was to be automatically resented.

    Almida had very nearly laughed in the girl's face when introduced in the receiving line. What an odd choice Darcy had made! Elizabeth Bennet had not the classic beauty of her elder sister, whom Almida learned was engaged to Charles Bingley of all people. Worst of all (in the Viscountess' view), was that when Miss Elizabeth turned to say something to Darcy, her affection showed very clearly in her eyes. Why, the silly girl was in love with him, for Heaven's sake!

    Neither of the Bennet girls was dressed fashionably, and the sleeves of the elder sister's dress appeared to have been remade. Most damning of all to Almida were their open, artless welcomes that immediately labeled them as 'country' to someone with the least bit of town gloss. Lady Almida noted a flicker of awareness in Miss Elizabeth's eyes when the Viscountess delivered a flattering remark that cloaked a needling slight, but she did not care enough to consider it.

    With no effort at all, the Viscountess had drawn Miss Bingley to the side and allowed that lady to spew all her knowledge of the Bennets. Caroline had been only too happy to do so; after her brother's refusal to see her home, her fury had only increased when Georgiana had happily informed her of her plans to go shopping with Elizabeth, Jane, and Mrs. Gardiner the very next day.

    That Miss Darcy was taking the Bennet sisters to Caroline's own modista--one to whom Miss Bingley had only gained an introduction after years of plotting-- added insult to injury.

    Catlike, Lady Almida had only smiled. "Why, I was just thinking that I would like to stop by Madame Claudette's shop this afternoon. Shall you come with me, Miss Bingley? I can have my carriage take you to your brother's house afterwards."

    Caroline was too thrilled to be acknowledged by the Viscountess Ashbourne, future Countess of Matlock (and everything she herself desired to be), to consider that she was being used. Had she done so, she probably would not have cared.

    Lady Almida made her farewells with all politeness, though she caught Mr. Darcy's look of suspicion when he noticed Miss Bingley trailing in her wake like a desperately loyal poodle.

    When they arrived at the modista's, Almida had done little more than prompt her faithful follower. Miss Bingley was more than happy to repeat her attack on the Bennets, embroidering here and there so as to best please her audience. When she began repeating herself, the Viscountess had cleared her voice slightly. Meeting Madame Claudette's eyes, she did not bother to hide her amusement.

    "As Miss Darcy shall be bringing the Miss Bennets to visit your establishment tomorrow, Miss Bingley thought that you might wish to know a bit about their background… their origins. So as to best judge what sort of fashions they will be most… comfortable in, of course."

    Claudette smiled. She might not particularly like Lady Almida, but one had to respect her skill. Should (or rather, when) the gossip made its way back to the Darcys, Fitzwilliams, or Bennets, it would be blamed upon Caroline's loose tongue. With a wink at the Viscountess, she turned toward the younger woman. "Thank you, Miss Bingley. I have some fabrics and patterns that shall suit these ladies perfectly."

    As a result, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was standing in Madame Claudette's shop, watching the Frenchwoman override Jane's timid demurrals with a loud voice and commanding attitude. The sisters had been pleased to accept Georgiana's eager offer to introduce them to her own modista after hearing that Mrs. Gardiner's usual dressmaker was retiring. However, that pleasure was rapidly evaporating as she watched poor Jane being pressed to accept a pattern which revealed far too much skin for her comfort, and an expensive, embroidered brocade which, though exquisite, did nothing to compliment Miss Bennet's natural beauty.

    Lizzy's suspicion that the dressmaker was attempting to press her most expensive wares on country neophytes who wouldn't know any better was furthered when a frustrated Jane corrected Madame Claudette with uncharacteristic sharpness.

    "No, Madame. You are mistaken; I am marrying Mr. Bingley. It is my sister who is to wed Mr. Darcy and will become Miss Darcy's new sister."

    The Frenchwoman had eyed the two ladies, clearly comparing the pair and questioning Mr. Darcy's judgment. Then, with hardly a blink, she turned her attentions on Elizabeth and began pressing the same fabrics on her, as "just the thing to brighten up your colouring." Lizzy rather thought that that particular flavour of green would make her look quite bilious, but the covetous look in Georgiana's eye kept her from saying so directly.

    Instead, after sharing a look with Jane and Mrs. Gardiner, she demurred with a "perhaps" and turned Madame Claudette's energy toward recommending patterns for morning dresses.

    In the end, the Miss Bennets were at Madame Claudette's for nearly four hours before escaping back into the sunlight. Much to the modista's chagrin, her customers left her with an order for nothing more than a single dinner dress for Jane (though her spirits were raised somewhat when Miss Darcy shyly indicated that she would return later in the week to select a new gown for herself to wear to her brother's wedding).

    After sending Georgiana off in the carriage so that she would be home in time for a music lesson, the other three ladies wandered around the square, enjoying the fresh air for some minutes until Elizabeth spied a chocolate house and urged the others to stop for a bit of refreshment. It was not long before the three were enjoying the steaming beverages and giggling over Madame Claudette's misjudgments.

    "What on Earth was she thinking, trying to dress you in that greenish-yellow brocade, Lizzy? It made you look positively ill!" huffed Mrs. Gardiner.

    "I rather suspect that she paid too high a price for the fabric herself and had not yet been able to foist it upon anyone else," responded Elizabeth. "Jane, I believe that even Mama would have been taken aback by the cut of that one evening gown pattern."

    Miss Bennet actually blushed over just the memory of the plunging décolletage. "Madame was very adamant that such cuts are the current fashion, but I believe I would prefer to be considered stuffy and old-fashioned if that is the style. Do ladies in London really wear such necklines? Without even a lace fichu?"

    Mrs. Gardiner patted her niece's hand reassuringly. "Perhaps a few, my dear, but do not worry yourself. You and Elizabeth both have excellent taste; trust your instincts and you shall be admired and respected where ever you go. I would guess that Mr. Darcy made it clear that his sister was to be dressed conservatively so Madame Claudette does not dare to press her into more… extreme… fashions. I fear to think of who she does dress in such creations!"

    Elizabeth smiled like a cat with a canary; it took little encouragement from the others for her to admit that she had spoken with one of Madame Claudette's underlings while the modista herself was focused on Jane. "Apparently Miss Bingley is one of her most devoted patrons."

    "How odd; Miss Darcy at least always appears well dressed." It took a moment for Jane to realize why the others were giggling at her. "I did not mean to say that Caroline is not… just that… her style is rather… different. Oh Lizzy! Stop laughing at me--I am trying to be kind!"

    Despite her remonstrance, Jane joined in the laughter, for all three recognized that Miss Bingley's fashions were certainly "different" from their own tastes.

    "And the prices that she wanted to charge you for those fabrics! Jane, that yellow silk she tried to press on you for your gown clearly had flaws in the weaving, but she acted as though it was fit for the Queen herself!" cried Mrs. Gardiner.

    Elizabeth smiled, her irritation wearing off as the humour of the situation began to be apparent. "Well, to be fair, Aunt, you are accustomed to having access to the contents of our uncle's warehouses, at cost."

    Madeline considered this and began to look quite smug. "I suppose I hadn't realized quite how much they were marked up by the time they reached High Society's closets."

    "So really we just need to find a dressmaker whose designs we like!"

    At just that moment, the bell signaling the entrance of another customer to the chocolate house tinkled. Elizabeth looked up and smiled in recognition of one of the girls at Madame Claudette's who had actually attempted to help her find something to her taste, before the modista had shooed her away.

    Encouraged, the seamstress said something to the man behind the counter and then approached their table. Though she looked hardly more than a girl herself, a boy of about four held tightly to her hand. Their relatedness was obvious when both turned dark, intense eyes upon Elizabeth.

    "Mademoiselle… eh… Miss Bennet. Pardon, my anglaise is still very poor."

    "Not at all; it is rather self-centered of us to expect that the rest of the world will all learn English to suit our convenience." Elizabeth made the lady welcome, even encouraging her to sit at one of the empty chairs and introducing her to Jane and Mrs. Gardiner.

    "I am named Isabelle Lavoisier and this is my son, Laurent."

    Despite the linguistic barrier, the slight but energetic young woman managed to explain that she had been a dressmaker in Paris, but had been forced to flee to England when her husband had been imprisoned and later executed during the White Terror of 1815. Her sister's husband owned the chocolate house and she was working there temporarily, but desired to find work that allowed her to use her talent with a needle. She had been at Madame Claudette's to apply for a position but had not been impressed by that woman.

    In a few minutes, Madame Lavoisier's leather portfolio had been opened and her designs passed around. In contrast to the other modista, she offered them only as examples of dresses she had designed for past clients, making it clear that she would be pleased to design gowns specifically to flatter the ladies. Each page was covered with sketches of a dress from different angles, with certain details enlarged and swatches of fabric, lace, and ribbons pinned to the sheet to document the materials.

    "Oh Lizzy--look at this!" Jane sounded positively breathless and Elizabeth smiled at the way her sister touched the sketch of a sapphire blue ball gown with near reverence.

    Noting that her aunt was equally impressed, Elizabeth turned to the Frenchwoman with a smile. "You are extremely talented, Madame Lavoisier. My sister and I will both be marrying on the fifteenth of September, and we have quite a lot of sewing to be done. In addition to our wedding dresses, there are several dinners to celebrate our engagement, including one hosted by the Earl of Matlock on Wednesday next. Would you be able to take on such a challenge?"

    The small woman fairly glowed with energy. "Mais oui! I mean, yes, Mademoiselle. Already I have ideas for such gowns… they shall show you and Mademoiselle Bennet to be the most beautiful ladies in England!"

    In short order, the practicalities were worked out. The dressmaker and her son would accompany the ladies back to Gracechurch Street and set up in a spare room to take their measurements and discuss their preferences. The following day, she would return with sketches for them to consider and they would visit Mr. Gardiner's warehouse to consider fabrics. Madame Lavoisier fairly vibrated when she comprehended that she would have access to the vast array of textiles right off the ship.

    So it was that the ladies returned home in far better spirits than might have been expected, considering their morning's experience. Petit Laurent was sent off to play with the Gardiner children while Jane and Elizabeth were closeted with his mother. By the time she was ready to depart, she had filled pages of her notebook with cryptic notes and sketches.

    That night when Mr. Bennet sat down to dinner, he was entertained by his two most sensible daughters positively bubbling over the prospect of pretty dresses. It did not take too many minutes before he had had enough, however. "No more lace, I beg you! I shall be forced to warn your gentlemen that they are marrying spendthrifts!"

    Jane looked slightly taken aback but Lizzy merely laughed. "Oh, Papa… if that were so, we would have allowed Madame Claudette to drape us in her overpriced finery." Elizabeth described several of the worst designs in such an arch manner that even Mr. Bennet was forced to chuckle. Eventually though, she took pity on him.

    As a certain gentleman was never far from her thoughts, a new topic of conversation was easily chosen. "Have you heard anything from Mr. Darcy or Colonel Fitzwilliam, Papa?"

    Lydia had been remarkably silent through the meal, but her head bobbed up at the question. Mr. Bennet frowned. "I know no more now than what they informed us of yesterday evening. Mr. Wickham's court martial was to be today with General Arlington presiding. Colonel Forster appeared to think that it would be over quickly enough that he might return to Hertfordshire tomorrow or the day after."

    The youngest Miss Bennet couldn't help but ask faintly, "What will happen to him?"

    Before her father could make some cutting remark about his youngest daughter's supposed paramour, Mr. Gardiner spoke evenly. "At worst, he could be hung or sent to debtors' prison, which some say is a fate worse than death. At best, he could be deported to the penal colonies in Australia." Lizzy had convinced him and his wife that their best hope for reaching Lydia was with brutal truths.

    Lydia tucked her chin and stared at her plate, obviously stunned by the harshness of the penalties, so Elizabeth attempted to lighten the conversation. "Mr. Darcy seemed to think that deportation was likely; Wickham is lucky that there are still some who will speak on his behalf, even after all that he has done. Though it seems to me that it is rather hard on the Australians…"

    The remainder of the meal was spent in spirited discussion of the moral right of Great Britain to send her convicts abroad rather than incarcerating them domestically. Though Elizabeth enjoyed the debate, she found herself wondering what her fiancé, with his broader education and greater knowledge of the world, might say. Though she knew she would see him the next evening when they dined at the Hursts', Lizzy could not suppress a deep ache at his absence.

    The next morning, Elizabeth entered the breakfast room and overheard her aunt and uncle discussing a problem at his warehouse. When she inquired, Mr. Gardiner admitted that he might have to miss the tour of Mr. Bingley's Waverley Street house arranged for that afternoon. "One of my clerks has fallen very ill. His assistant assured me that he could manage, but I have been checking over the account and discovered a number of errors. Unfortunately, the ledgers must be turned over to my investors by tomorrow, so I am afraid that I shall be putting my nose to the grindstone this afternoon instead of touring Jane's future home."

    "But surely I could help, Uncle? I know your system; you taught it to me yourself."

    "Lizzy, that is very generous of you, but surely you have quite enough to fill your time. Isn't your new dressmaker returning this morning?"

    His niece grinned. "Obviously you were not paying close attention last night, Uncle. Our appointment with Madame Lavoisier is not until eleven. Please let me help. You and Aunt Maddy have been so good to us; it would make me feel that I have repaid some of your generosity."

    "Oh, Lizzy, don't be silly," said Mrs. Gardiner. "You are family. We are so happy to have you and Jane here during such a happy time."

    "And your new connections have certainly allowed us to make some momentous acquaintances," added her husband, referring to Miss de Bourgh.

    The Gardiners had discussed the matter of Sir Lewis de Bourgh's will and agreed that they would prefer to keep the news of their eldest son's position as potential heir to Rosings as private as possible. Both placed a high value on education for all their children, but they had also decided to ask Mr. Darcy for his advice on how best to prepare young Tommy in case the responsibilities of Rosings did fall to him.

    In the end, Mr. Gardiner agreed to let Elizabeth work on his accounts, at least until Madame Lavoisier arrived. She brought the ledgers into the breakfast room to take advantage of the large table and enjoy the morning sunlight streaming through the east-facing windows. It was there that Lydia discovered her.

    "Whatever are you doing, Lizzy?"

    Elizabeth looked up blankly, having been completely caught up in summing a long column of expenses. After blinking a few times, a smile ghosted across her face. "I am helping Uncle Edward with his accounting." She explained the situation of the ill clerk. "I like to feel that I am assisting the Gardiners in some way, given what generous hosts they have been to us. Would you help me, Lydia? You were always the best of us at mathematics."

    So it was that a relatively short statement spiced with guilt and leavened by praise resulted in the youngest Miss Bennet joining her sister at the table. She caught on to the organization of the accounts quickly and soon the sisters were engaged in a friendly competition, racing to finish their sums and then exchanging their work to check the other for errors.

    Such was the pleasant sight that greeted Mr. Gardiner when he returned from his office. The work which he had expected to take up his entire afternoon was nearly finished, and perhaps more importantly, Lydia showed a remarkable level of dedication and pride in her effort.

    After checking over the girls' work, Edward turned to them. "Elizabeth, Lydia, this looks excellent; I do not see a single error. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your aid in this." He was gratified to see Lydia turn to her sister with a satisfied grin, linking her arm with her elder sister and showing none of the spoiled pout that had become her normal mien in recent years. He considered for a moment and then made a decision.

    "Well then, girls. I hear Madame Lavoisier in the hall. I believe a dress for each of you would be adequate recompense for your work today. Is that acceptable?"

    His answer was a happy squeal from Lydia and an approving smile from Elizabeth.

    Chapter 30. His Just Desserts.

    Posted on 2010-12-04

    August 1818

    The day after Mr. Darcy had arrived in London, Colonel Forster had knocked on the door at Derwent House. He was greatly relieved to hear that Lieutenant Wickham was in the custody of Colonel Fitzwilliam and would have departed immediately for that man's headquarters had not the younger officer accompanying him stepped forward and spoken.

    "But what of Miss Lydia? Was she found? Is she well?"

    "Ah, yes-- I apologize. This is my aid, Lieutenant Sanderson. He is the one who brought Lieutenant Wickham's most recent misbehavior and unauthorized absence to my attention," said the Colonel.

    Recognizing something in the young man's earnest gaze, Darcy took pity on him. "Yes, Miss Lydia is well and unharmed. We encountered them on the road to London so she was quickly returned to the protection of her father. She and her elder sisters are now staying with their uncle and aunt at Gracechurch Street."

    Before Mr. Sanderson could question him further, the butler showed in Colonel Fitzwilliam.

    The two colonels knew each other by reputation; Forster had been known as a reliable if uninspired officer in the regulars until he had resigned his commission at forty. Desiring to spend his declining years in his native land and with more domestic comforts than the barracks provided, he had offered his services to the militia and his hand to the first pretty young lady who caught his eye. Currently, he was regretting one if not both of those decisions. He knew how to defend Hertfordshire against the French if the need should ever arise, but not how to defend his wife against the flirtations of his officers.

    After Richard acknowledged the militia officers, he turned to his cousin. "Wickham is safely ensconced in the Staff Corps of Cavalry's most luxurious accommodations… which is to say that he now greatly misses the room in which you locked him last night."

    "I did not know what to do with him once we arrived in London yesterday," Darcy explained to Colonel Forster, "so I secured him here and sent expresses to you and my cousin, who is far more knowledgeable of the military justice system than I." William was relieved when Wickham's commanding officer merely nodded and turned expectantly to Colonel Fitzwilliam.

    "I met with the adjutant to General Arlington and explained the situation." Richard turned to Darcy with a smirk. "You will remember him, perhaps; Colin Pickering?"

    William's first reaction was to grimace in memory; the man in question had been several years above him at school and widely despised by the other boys because of his dedication to seeing that the school's rules were enforced to the letter. William had not been at Eton for more than a month before Pickering had reported him… for breaking a rule that Darcy had not known existed. William, still stinging from the headmaster's stick, had confronted Pickering. The older boy had shown not a shred of remorse. "The rules are the rules. It is your responsibility to know the rules; ignorance is not an excuse."

    After William spent a moment wallowing in his memories, a new thought occurred to him and, seeing a glint in Richard's eye, he realized that his cousin had been waiting for him to catch up. His father's godson had been at school with them, and while Darcy had eventually earned a bit of grudging respect from the head boy, Pickering had thoroughly despised Wickham. The two cousins smirked at each other and Will could not help but note, "Well, it is good to know that Pickering has found an appropriate niche for himself where his natural talents are used to best advantage."

    Doing his best to suppress feelings of boyish glee that were entirely inappropriate for a Colonel in the King's army, Richard turned back to Forster. "Pickering is a great stickler for regulations and shall not let Wickham wriggle out of this with his usual slippery charm and silver tongue."

    Colonel Forster nodded curtly; he had other, more personal matters that had heated his anger with Wickham to the boiling point. In his investigation of the Lieutenant, he had discovered not only the extent of the man's debts to the merchants in Brighton (not to mention his gambling and debauchery) and his debts of honour within the regiment, but also a whisper of just how close that man had been with Forster's own young wife.

    "What charges are being brought against him? I can testify that he absented himself from his post without leave, but the duty logs will show he was off on Monday; I fear he will claim that you and Mr. Bennet prevented him from returning in time to make curfew. I can charge him with taking a horse and vehicle without proper procedure, but to be honest, the militia is not as meticulous about such things as the regulars."

    Forster paused and rested his eyes on his aid. He had spent much of the ride to London raving about the weakness of females and his desire to beat his missing officer to a pulp. It was only in the last few miles that Sanderson had convinced his commanding officer that, although accusing the miscreant of kidnapping Miss Lydia with malicious intent might be the most expedient way to deliver Wickham his just deserts, it would also destroy the young lady's reputation and also hurt her family's standing in society. Even in his all-consuming fury, Forster had to admit that such collateral damage should be avoided if at all possible.

    Fitzwilliam nodded curtly, his long experience with Wickham led him to guess at the source of the other Colonel's heightened colour. "Regardless, we shall formalize the charges with Pickering as soon as possible. Every scrap documenting Wickham's bad character and misdeeds shall help in the trial. Which brings me to another issue that we need to discuss…" He turned to pick up a leather satchel he had set aside upon entering.

    William recognized it immediately, having once had one very like it of his own. "My father gave that to George, just before we left for school."

    Richard nodded soberly, running a finger over the embossed initials before opening the strap. "It is, indeed… though I fear that he has not used it as my uncle would have hoped. Pickering and I found it when we searched his belongings." He glanced toward Forster. "Wickham has been funding his poor attempts at the gaming tables by blackmailing various people… some for as long as ten years. Even his commission in the militia was signed over to him by some poor bloke with no other means to pay."

    Amid the expostulations of amazement and disgust, Colonel Fitzwilliam drew out a battered blue ledger and a folder stuffed with papers of different shapes and sizes. "I must give him credit for taking meticulous notes on who paid him when and for how much. Old Wickham certainly taught him well, though I admit to being glad that your father's steward passed away before it was revealed to him just how his son applied those bookkeeping skills."

    Darcy merely grunted in response and held out his hand for the ledger. At Forster's raised eyebrow, Richard explained, "With this evidence, we could easily win a civil suit against Wickham, but Pickering and I both believe that it would be best for all concerned if we can bring him to justice within the military court system, and General Arlington agrees. This way, the victims of his blackmail will not have their embarrassments bandied about in open court.

    "I have not read all the papers yet, nor could I make out all the names, but as best I can tell, none appear to have done anything particularly criminal. In fact, most seem to be the sort of youthful indiscretions that, if known, would embarrass the man and cost his family some standing in Society. The others have even more of a need for privacy; victims whose shame seem to have been orchestrated by Wickham himself." At Darcy's sharp look, Richard nodded shortly. "With Pickering's permission, I have removed one letter written by a young lady known to us both. It appears that Wickham was biding his time until her debut in Society to begin his demands for recompense."

    William's black look reflected not only his fury at his boyhood companion, but also a certain hurt that Georgiana had not informed him of the letter herself, so that he might have taken appropriate measures to protect her. He turned his back on the others and moved to stand at the window, shutting his eyes tightly for a few moments and trying to regain the countenance necessary for the situation. Suddenly he wished desperately for Elizabeth's soothing presence. He always felt a dull ache when he was separated from her, but the pain of the current situation caused his need for her to increase a thousand-fold.

    With a deep sigh, Darcy squared his shoulders and turned back to the others. The sooner that Wickham was dealt with, the sooner William could return to Elizabeth's side and comfort them both with the knowledge that the miscreant could never plague them or their loved ones ever again.

    When his cousin had turned away, Colonel Fitzwilliam had directed the other officers' attention to the papers. Between the three of them, they began the work of identifying the authors and matching them with the victims listed in the ledger. Once he had regained his composure, William joined them. It soon became clear that Wickham had used the Darcy connections and his godfather's patronage at university to insert himself into various society gatherings that would not otherwise have welcomed the son of a steward, however charming.

    Not a few of the letters were the naïve, lovelorn ramblings of young maidens who had made the acquaintance of the enchanting Mr. Wickham through their brothers. Their supposed paramour had then forced his old schoolmates to pay for their sister's indiscretions.

    "Good Lord!" grumbled Colonel Fitzwilliam upon reading a particularly flowery passage. "Obviously mistakes were made in not providing these girls with proper chaperonage, but don't they know better than to put such matters to paper?"

    Forster shook his head bleakly. "There is such a similarity to them… almost as if the bastard prompted them… which I would guess he did, know that I think on it. I see now that your plan to keep the trial to the military court is an excellent one, Fitzwilliam. These papers show quite clearly that, not only have Wickham's crimes extended for years, but that his blackmail was often premeditated. However, it is only made clear by studying the details and those should not be made public if at all possible. Why, this poor girl speaks of her hope that she will see him at her sixteenth birthday party!"

    Lieutenant Sanderson had been largely silent during the discussion. He had identified love letters from single ladies addressed to several of his fellow officers and two to Wickham from ladies who had socialized with the regiment in Brighton. Eventually he took up a stack of letters written in a feminine hand but with such poor penmanship that the others had set them aside. He flushed but his voice was steady when he handed them to Mr. Darcy.

    "These are from Miss Lydia, sir." A memory of the vivacious Miss Bennet laughing at his attempts to read her scrawl while playing a game of lottery tickets at her Aunt Phillip's home flashed across his mind's eye and he was left feeling positively ill.

    Ernest Sanderson had developed decidedly warm feelings for Miss Lydia, as her lively spirits had reminded him of his own mother's nature. Since Mrs. Sanderson's death when he was but fourteen, it had seemed that all the warmth and happiness in their family circle had drained away. His father had all but let the estate go in his grief. It was only recently that Ernest's elder brother had begun to take control of the property and get it back on its feet. Sanderson had spent two years at school before the money had run out.

    He and his brother had decided that the best hope for his future was to use the last of the funds not tied up in the estate to purchase a commission in the militia for Ernest and hope that he might further his career through his own merit and hard work. Indeed, Lieutenant Sanderson's native intelligence and stalwart nature had ensured his advancement and he had even begun to think about transferring to the regulars where his natural gift for languages might open further avenues to his career. He had not thought much about his personal life until meeting Miss Lydia Bennet.

    Darcy saw some of the pain in the younger man's eyes and intuited the source. Taking the letters and looking down at them, he spoke softly, "Miss Elizabeth recently pointed out to me that in many ways, our society's approach of protecting young ladies by closeting them away and requiring their complete naïveté does them a disservice. By keeping them ignorant that there are such men in the world, they cannot protect themselves, and no matter how hard we try, we cannot protect them every minute."

    William was unaccustomed to being so open with relative strangers, but he could see immediately that Lieutenant Sanderson was considering his words carefully. Eventually, the tow-haired youth nodded with all seriousness. "It is an excellent point. I have a younger sister, myself, who has been under the protection of my brother and I since the death of our father." He nodded slightly, still staring at the letters in Darcy's hands. "I shall need to think on this further and then discuss it with them, but what you say makes a great deal of sense."

    Ernest recalled himself to the present and cleared his throat. "Thank you, sir. You have a younger sister, yourself, I believe?" He then blushed slightly at having been so forward with a gentleman so far above his own family's standing.

    Darcy nodded and found himself warming to the junior officer. "Yes, and as Colonel Fitzwilliam can attest, I have been the most overprotective guardian imaginable since my own father passed on nearly five years ago. If I am ever so fortunate as to have a daughter myself, I hope I will be strong enough to act somewhat differently."

    Richard could not help but chortle, "Oh Lord… Darcy, the mere idea of you trying to restrain your overprotective nature with a daughter of your own… why, I shall pray every Sunday that I live long enough to see you forced to introduce a gaggle of beautiful daughters to Society…" His chuckle became a full belly laugh when his cousin blanched at the thought.

    Before Colonel Fitzwilliam might proceed with his teasing, their conference was interrupted by a tapping at the door. Georgiana entered somewhat timidly, though her curiosity about the gentlemen's discussion was not completely contained.

    They all rose and William went to stand at her side. "Gentlemen, this is my sister, Miss Darcy. Georgiana, these are Colonel Forster and Lieutenant Sanderson. They have come down from the regimental headquarters in Hertfordshire."

    He was relieved that he would not have to explain further when Georgie nodded slightly and eyed the two unknown officers. After exchanging their greetings, she turned back to her brother.

    "I wished to inquire about your plans for luncheon. Aunt Eleanor sent a note that Ellen and Lucy will be coming with her at half past one. And of course Mrs. Gardiner told me to expect her to arrive with Elizabeth and Miss Bennet about then as well."

    William was again struck by the deep need to embrace Elizabeth and bury his face in her hair, but he turned to see that Richard was already shaking his head. "I thank you for my share of the invitation, Georgie, but as much as I would enjoy the company, I am afraid we need to return to my office and get these papers sorted out."

    He turned to his host. "Darce--there's no reason you can't stay… as long as you aren't afraid of being the lone gentleman to dine with seven ladies… with weddings and dresses the prevailing topic of conversation, I would be willing to bet."

    Though the tease made him smile slightly, William was already shaking his head. Turning to his sister, he squeezed her shoulders. "I need to go with them, to… finish this. I may have knowledge of Wickham's acquaintances and habits that will be of help. Shall you be alright alone, Georgiana?"

    Miss Darcy forced herself not to flinch at the mention of That Man's name and managed a relatively even response. "Yes, and Elizabeth shall be here to help if some fearsome guest arrives unexpectedly."

    To be sure, Georgiana was thinking only of Miss Bingley, whose recent disappointment had made her even less pleasant of a companion than usual. However her brother's thoughts had been centered on Wickham all morning, so it is not surprising that his mind leapt to the worst interpretation first. "Mr. Wickham is locked up in a cell, guarded by soldiers who will have no patience for his silver tongue, dearest. You do not need to worry about him forcing his way in here."

    Miss Darcy was about to explain his misunderstanding, but something in her brother's voice told her that he needed to feel that he had been able to reassure her. She smiled and patted his arm. "Thank you, William. I shall not worry." Georgiana turned back to the others and bid them farewell. A glint in her cousin's eye suggested that Richard had guessed her stratagem, but she managed to leave before he might begin to tease her about it.

    Not many minutes later, the four gentlemen mounted their horses and set out for the Staff Corps of Cavalry's headquarters. If one of them looked back wistfully, hoping to see a certain young lady arriving with her aunt and sister at Derwent House, he was to be disappointed.

    The four men worked all afternoon and into the evening, but the effort was well worth it. Sanderson was sent off to Darcy's solicitor with a note that allowed him to collect certain papers documenting Wickham's extensive debts over the years. By the time the Lieutenant returned, Colonel Fitzwilliam's man had just arrived with another stack of notes detailing his various obligations to the merchants of Brighton.

    "Bloody Hell! Wickham spends more on clothes than I do!" exploded Fitzwilliam. "Not only uniforms, but all sorts of coats and hats and boots! What could he possibly need twenty-five silk cravats for, I ask you!?!"

    Darcy might have replied that, when they had shared rooms at university, Wickham would constantly smirk about having left various items of apparel behind with his latest conquest. However, given what he suspected of his boyhood companion's relationship with Colonel Forster's wife, he chose wisely to remain silent.

    Luckily, Richard had passed on to a different receipt. "What is this, German?"

    Colonel Forster eyed the note and then passed it to his aid. "Possibly--many of the shopkeepers in Brighton are immigrants. Sanderson?"

    The Lieutenant was already preparing pen and paper. "Yes, sir. A northern dialect, I believe. I'll have a translation prepared for you momentarily."

    Colonel Fitzwilliam's eyebrows rose and he spent several minutes quizzing the young officer, becoming increasingly impressed. Colonel Forster looked on like a proud father. "Though I should try to discourage his plans to transfer to the regulars--he makes my own job far easier, as you can easily imagine--his linguistic talents are far too valuable to wasted in the militia."

    The two Colonels shared a look and an unspoken agreement was made. If Fitzwilliam was satisfied with the young Lieutenant's worth, he would use his own not insignificant influence to smooth Sanderson's transfer.

    The four men took a break for a quick meal at a local chophouse and went from there to Gracechurch Street. The Colonels' primary purpose was to take Mr. Bennet's statement. If Mr. Darcy and Lieutenant Sanderson had hopes for more feminine company, only one of them was to satisfied, and even then only partially.

    Elizabeth and her sisters were upstairs while Mr. Darcy introduced the others and explained what they needed from Mr. Bennet. Mr. Gardner's intelligent questions rapidly gained Colonel Fitzwilliam's respect and he made the effort to explain more of the situation than he might have done had only Mr. Bennet been present.

    Longbourn's master generated a great deal of pity from the Earl of Matlock's younger son. Though obviously intelligent and well-read, Mr. Bennet was clearly heartsick over this new evidence of his youngest daughter's shameful conduct and out of his depth when the conversation turned to practical aspects of Wickham's trial. Elizabeth's father covered with a few sarcastic comments and a quote or two from the Greeks, but it was obvious to Richard's sharp eye when Mr. Gardiner subtly prompted his brother-in-law on the pertinent details to include while writing his statement.

    Some might have looked at the older gentleman with derision, but Richard was only saddened at the sight of a man whose birth had burdened him with duties for which his innate talents were not suited. Clearly Mr. Bennet loved his daughters dearly, but the Colonel could tell that he would have been far more comfortable discussing books than managing an estate and shepherding five beautiful young ladies into society.

    The four gentlemen did not stay long after collecting Mr. Bennet's statement. Darcy managed a few words with Elizabeth when she descended from above stairs, but there was no possibility of being alone without arousing the suspicions of those around them. William tried to convince himself that he was satisfied with kissing her hand and holding it a little longer than proper, but somehow that only left him wishing for more.

    Looking deeply into her sparkling eyes just before he followed his cousin out the door, William whispered, "How many days until we are married and I no longer have to leave you like this?"

    He was lucky that night had fallen and Richard could not easily make out the emotions evident on his face, for just before the door shut behind him, he had heard Elizabeth whisper distinctly, "thirty-seven."

    They returned to Derwent House. Colonel Fitzwilliam was staying in his usual room and it had been easy to convince the visiting officers that such an arrangement would be far more convenient (and comfortable) than trying to arrange for quarters on short notice.

    Darcy was relieved when the other three chose to retire immediately, allowing him to retreat to his own chambers soon after checking for messages and bidding his sister a good night. Though tired, it was a long time before he fell asleep and even then his rest was disturbed by a series of vivid dreams.

    When Will awoke the next morning, the faint light of dawn told him that it was still early. He allowed himself to lean back into the pillows and shut his eyes for a few moments more. The business with Wickham had stirred up memories, and those had invaded his dreams. How was it, he wondered (not for the first time), that the boy he had known so well and who his father had given so many advantages, had come to this?

    Elizabeth's admonitions at Hunsford had forced Darcy to re-evaluate the pride he took in his family's heritage and he accepted that his place in Society was to some degree an accident of birth, earned through no actions of his own. However, it was hard not to see George Wickham's life as a cautionary tale against raising a man of base birth as a gentleman.

    William could recall his father being pleased to hear if George had had the least success at school and later university. It had infuriated Will that he was held to a higher standard. In hindsight, he wondered if Mr. Darcy had assumed George to be less able because of his bloodlines. Would Will himself been so driven to succeed if he had been born the son of a steward?

    Like his father, Darcy had always held out hope that his boyhood companion would someday turn away from his bad habits and make something of himself. William had thought that such feelings had been burned out of him by the fury that had consumed him at Ramsgate. Certainly he had felt nothing but anger and suspicion when he had next seen Wickham on the street in Meryton, being introduced to the Bennet sisters.

    Of course, some of that might have been George's proximity to Elizabeth, for even before William had considered asking her to marry him, he had been jealous of sharing her smiles with other men.

    Elizabeth. He felt a stirring in his loins at just the thought of her. With a sigh, he rolled onto his back. Suddenly, he wished she were beside him with every fiber of his being. Certainly he enjoyed talking with her and looked forward to the time when their opportunities to do so privately were not limited to stolen moments. However, he also desired her physically with an intensity that almost frightened him. Even his dearly held beliefs on how a gentleman should treat his fiancé did not stop Will from dreaming of how glorious it would be to lay with the woman whom he loved, and who, against all odds, had come to love him in return.

    If his dreams and subsequent physical needs made William slightly late in beginning his morning ablutions, no one else noticed.

    After an excellent breakfast, Darcy and the others began where they had left off the previous day, organizing the facts and compiling the supporting documents that would prove Lieutenant Wickham guilty of an increasingly long list of discipline offenses and criminal conduct.

    By the time Darcy left Colonel Fitzwilliam's office later that day, the work was complete. After a quick stop at Derwent House to change, Will collected his sister and directed his driver to take them to Gracechurch Street. It was only when Georgiana asked softly, "Are you nervous?" that it really sank in that they were on their way to an engagement party in his honor… Where everyone would be watching him, and he would be expected to make polite small talk for hours and meet dozens of strangers… Strangers whom Elizabeth cared about and he must not offend.

    Miss Darcy smiled slightly when panic flickered across her brother's face, followed by a very serious, focused demeanor. Reaching over, she touched his arm. "I am sure it shall be lovely. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner are so kind, I cannot imagine any of their friends could be other than agreeable."

    William gritted his teeth, thinking of the various unpleasant personalities that had been invited due to their connection to him. Luckily, the carriage came to a halt before he had to respond.

    They had arrived before any of the other guests except Mr. Bingley. William caught his breath when Elizabeth turned from speaking to a maid; her delight in his arrival somehow loosened the knot in his stomach.

    Elizabeth noticed that he was even quieter than usual and, after making sure that Georgiana was happily chatting with Jane and Mr. Bingley, she drew him off to the side of the room. "What has happened? Is it something to do with Mr. Wickham?"

    William shook his head. Though he would have much preferred to pull her away into an empty room, he contented himself by tucking her hand around his arm. He did not notice that he left his other hand atop hers, gently rubbing his thumb along her finger.

    "No… no, everything is well. All the paperwork supporting the charges is organized for his trial tomorrow. Richard asked me to apologize; he shall be a bit late in arriving for the party, as he needed to wait for his man to return from tracking down a last few leads."

    At Elizabeth's raised eyebrows (the blush was due to the movement of his finger against her own but he did not realize it), he explained further. "Apparently some of Wickham's blackmail victims gave him jewelry or other valuables in lieu of money. Sergeant Dunn has been tracking some of those down from the black-marketers to whom he fenced them."

    Elizabeth nodded and studied him quietly for a moment. "It upsets you… seeing all that he has done, laid out in black and white, as it were."

    Darcy studied the rug for a moment, unaware that his hand had stopped moving and now simply held her hand tightly. Eventually he sighed and looked up, the understanding look in her eye loosening another knot in his stomach. "I, of all people, know how untrustworthy he is, but… well, to see it all formalized as criminal charges. I have desired to see him punished for a long time, particularly after Ramsgate but… for many years, he was the closest thing I had to a sibling… to a brother." He almost whispered the last.

    There was much Elizabeth wished she could say to comfort him, but the footman was just showing in the first guests and there was no time. Squeezing his hand until she had his undivided attention, she whispered, "You are the very best of men and I love you dearly. You have given Wickham every possible chance to make something of himself, but he is no longer a schoolboy playing pranks. He has become a criminal, and it is not your duty to shield him from justice. Quite the opposite, in fact."

    Though she had not told him anything he did not already know, hearing her say the words steadied William. Turning them slightly so that his actions were hidden from the rest of the room, he kissed her forehead lightly. "Thank you. I love you more than you can know."

    Before Lizzy could protest that she did know very well, the booming voice of his uncle prompted them to take their places in the receiving line. "Sir James, how wonderful to see you again!" began Elizabeth, kissing the elderly gentleman's cheek.

    "Yes, yes, my dear. I am glad that I have managed to arrive before the mob descended; you shan't have a moment to spare, then, I am sure."

    Pleased to see both of the young people smile in response, Sir James nodded. "I simply wished to tell you both how pleased I am." Becoming more serious, the judge turned to his nephew while still holding Elizabeth's hand. "Wills, you haven chosen very well and, as the last remaining Darcy of my generation, I wish you both to know that you have my sincerest blessings and my prayers for a long and happy life together."

    The sincerity in the elderly bachelor's words left Elizabeth's eyes slightly misty. William worked manfully to hide how touched he was, but he may have shaken his uncle's hand for rather longer than necessary.

    More guests were shown in and Sir James moved off to greet the Gardiners and others known to him. In his place passed a succession of well-wishers, most kind and sincere in their congratulations; a few (such as Lady Almida and Miss Bingley) were not, but they were easily forgot.

    Darcy did his best to shake off his melancholy and those who knew him certainly noticed that he smiled more and seemed easier in company than was his usual tendency. He stayed close to Elizabeth and she eased his way through the conversations, giving him small smiles or brushing her hand against his when she saw he needed a bit of encouragement.

    It was quite late by the time the last guest was shown to the door. Elizabeth and Jane joined their fiancés and Georgiana on the sidewalk for a few minutes, waiting for the Darcy carriage to be brought around. While the others chatted about the party, Lizzy and William strolled arm in arm, exchanging a few words but mainly enjoying the gathering twilight and the chance to be together.

    Seeing the coach turn out of the mews and knowing they had only a few minutes, Elizabeth turned to the tall man beside her. "Mr. Wickham's trial is tomorrow."

    Darcy nodded, unsurprised that her mind had followed a similar path as his own.

    "William." He stopped and gave her his full attention; she reached to take his hand in her own. After standing thus for a few moments, she gave a small laugh. "There are so many things I wish to say… and others I feel that I should say. When I think of what Mr. Wickham tried to do to Georgiana and Lydia, and what he did do to so many others who were less fortunate… I have a most unchristian desire to see him punished to the full extent of the law… even if it should require his death." She paused for a moment, but then the words tumbled out. "Yet, to argue for the death of one whom I once considered as a friend seems almost like matching his betrayal with one of my own. A death sentence is so… final. Oh, I don't know what I am trying to say…"

    Elizabeth trailed off and would have turned away had not William reached out and pulled her toward him. "No, you are expressing exactly the struggle that I feel, it is just that you have attempted to articulate it, while I did not even dare to try."

    William rested his forehead against hers and they stood thus for several moments before he whispered, "I do not know what I will do tomorrow. I can only hope that the General and his adjutant are impartial enough to make a fair decision, for I am well aware that I have too many conflicting emotions to see clearly."

    Lizzy smiled up at him. "You are a good man. Whatever you do shall be correct."

    "Darcy!" Charles called and the couple saw that the others were waiting for them by the carriage. As one, they turned and retraced their steps.

    Before he followed his sister and friend into the carriage, William squeezed her hand and whispered, "Thirty-six."

    The next morning, Mr. Wickham was woken early, allowed to shave and given a clean set of regimentals to wear. After spending several nights in a cell with other prisoners at the regimental headquarters, the man was mildly rattled but quickly cloaked his uncertainty with his usual brazen, confident manner when he was conducted to the Colonel's staff meeting room.

    "Ah… Fitzwilliam, Darcy. How excellent to see you both again. Now we can work out this little misunderstanding." Even sporting some impressive bruises and a broken nose, George Wickham played the carefree gentleman with ease. His greedy eyes worked to gauge the moods of the two men opposite, guessing at how much money he could demand of them to keep quiet.

    Hearing the door open behind him, Wickham turned and blanched. "Colonel Forster. Sir…"

    "Lieutenant Wickham… This is General Arlington and his Adjutant, Mr. Pickering."

    The two colonels and the general acknowledged each other and seated themselves behind the table, across from where Wickham was left to stand at attention. Darcy moved quietly to take a seat in the corner where he could watch all the faces. It amused him to see that Wickham obviously did not recall Mr. Pickering from school and had immediately set about trying to impress the stranger with his most gentlemanly manners.

    After the officers had settled themselves and arranging some papers before them, all eyes turned to the defendant. Mr. Wickham began to suspect that he was in rather more trouble than he had assumed and did his best not to squirm. As they had decided beforehand, Colonel Forster began.

    "Lieutenant. You have absented yourself from my regiment without approval. Do you have an explanation?"

    "Of course, sir. Miss Lydia Bennet requested that I take her to London…" Wickham paused to smirk at Darcy and relaxed a bit, certain that his godfather's son would quickly put a stop the proceedings to save the reputation of his fiancé's family.

    Colonel Forster moved two sheets of paper from his folder. "Yes. We have an affidavit from Lieutenant Sanderson that he observed you at a quarter past two in the afternoon on Tuesday, stopping on the South road out of Meryton and assisting a Miss Lydia Bennet into a regiment vehicle." Forster handed this paper to the General who skimmed it and nodded.

    Squaring a second paper before him, the Colonel continued. "Second, we have an affidavit from Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy" (the colonel nodded to the silent gentleman in the corner) "that you delivered the young lady to her father, Mr. Thomas Bennet, at the Buxton Inn, nineteen miles south of Meryton on the road to London, at approximatly six that evening."

    "That was fast," murmured the general, taking the second affidavit from Forster.

    The Colonel nodded and looked sharply at Wickham. "Yes, extremely fast. I myself examined the mare in Buxton on Wednesday. She was exhausted and lamed, perhaps permanently."

    The General grunted and frowned--one of his major headaches was keeping the militia adequately supplied with horses. The unnecessary injury of one was not viewed lightly.

    Forster continued. "I have interviewed Mr. Bennet myself and, although he received his daughter and took her under his protection immediately upon her arrival in Buxton, it had not been arranged and there was no emergency. Mr. Darcy has testified that, after delivering Miss Lydia to her father, Mr. Wickham attempted to depart immediately for London. Upon realizing that the horse he arrived with was too lame to continue, Lieutenant Wickham attempted to steal a saddle horse from a civilian in the street, but was rendered unconscious in the attempt." All four men looked at Wickham's blackened eye and swollen jaw.

    "The owner declined to press charges, but Mr. Darcy, guessing the situation, took charge of Lieutenant Wickham and delivered him here to Colonel Fitzwilliam on the following day."

    The General nodded to Mr. Darcy "My thanks, sir." Arlington then turned to the accused. "Lieutenant Wickham. As I understand it, the charges against you are absence without leave from your regiment, misappropriation of a regimental horse and vehicle, and injury though maltreatment of said equine. You are not charged with attempted theft of the civilian's horse, but the action will be considered as evidence of your intentions on the day in question. Do you have a response to these charges, Lieutenant? We will get to the others in a moment."

    At this point, Wickham was mildly concerned but still believed that he could force Darcy to halt the proceedings in order to save the Bennet name. Thinking quickly, he began with a smile, "Certainly, sir. This is all a misunderstanding, you see. I arrived in Meryton on Monday evening rather late--my squad had been set a special assignment to pack up some last equipment and bring it up from Brighton after the flood, you see--and we were given Tuesday off. Having some free time I went for a walk--I've always loved the country, you see, and wanted to explore a bit. I came upon Miss Lydia in the lane. I had met her and her family on a number of occasions and considered her a friend--a little sister, if you will."

    He couldn't resist smirking at Darcy to see if his remark drew a response. Seeing nothing from the stone-faced gentleman, Wickham turned back to the General and continued.

    "Miss Lydia was desperate to travel to London and convinced me that there was no time to spare. I knew that her two eldest sisters were engaged and traveling to London with their father; I assumed that her desperation was some sort of family emergency. As an officer and a gentleman, I felt obliged to assist. Miss Lydia assured me that she was acting according to the direction of Mrs. Bennet." Wickham thought quickly over how to embroider the truth to best suit his needs and set his silver tongue to work. He had to make it clear that Lydia Bennet had spent a great deal of time alone with him, unchaperoned and NOT in a speeding curricle if he was to force Darcy and Fitzwilliam to shield him from the charges.

    "I did take a horse and curricle from the regimental stables, sir, but I assure you that I explained the situation to the officer in charge of the pickets and received permission and, in fact, encouragement on my mission."

    The General injected a question in Wickham's pause. "What was the name of this man? And the time?"

    Wickham shifted his weight but still felt sure of his ability to weasel his way out. "Mid-morning, sir. I'm afraid that my pocket watch was stolen last week." He looked to the General for sympathy. In reality he had lost the watch in a card game.

    "As to the officer, I'm afraid I don't know his name. Miss Lydia was in quite a rush, you understand, and I was under the impression that the Colonel wished us to do everything possible to aid the local population."

    He smiled innocently at the man he been cuckolding for weeks before continuing; "I fear that Lieutenant Sanderson's words should be taken with a grain of salt. I'm afraid that the young man has a great but unrequited affection for Miss Lydia, but as the young lady has something of a crush on me, his jealousy drives him to… well, I would prefer not to speak ill of a fellow officer but I am sure you understand."

    If Wickham had hoped that his words would prompt feelings of sympathy from his commanding officers, he was to be disappointed. He glanced at Darcy and was disconcerted at how calm the gentleman appeared.

    Colonel Forster spoke up. "Sir, there are several points in the Lieutenant's statement that are inconsistent with facts I have collected."

    The general raised a finger. "Lieutenant Wickham will finish his statement, and then you may respond."

    By now, Wickham was feeling decidedly unsettled. Darcy was not acting as expected. Even Richard Fitzwilliam had contributed nothing. Wickham had assessed Forster as a friendly, even jovial man of middling intelligence who tended toward mediation and compromise, not suspicion or accusations. For a moment, Wickham had a quaking thought that Forster might suspect something of his wife's affair, but brushed it aside. Surely the man would not embarrass himself by airing such an accusation?

    In truth, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was working very hard not to laugh out loud with glee at Wickham's verbal wiggling. For years he had watched the boy, and then the man, twist favors out of his Uncle Darcy and then blacken the Darcy name, crowning his miserable life with the attempted seduction of little Georgiana. Darcy had never been able to take legal recourse without damaging the family reputation. Finally, Wickham had made a major miscalculation. By signing onto the militia, he had put himself under the rules and regulations of a world with which Fitzwilliam was intimately familiar.

    George Wickham cleared his throat and desperately tried to regroup. "Sir, I… When I arrived in Buxton, I immediately took Miss Lydia to her father at the Inn. Mr. Darcy and I have a long history--his father favored me as his godson and the son's jealousy has affected his outlook even into adulthood. When he saw me enter the Inn at Buxton, he threatened me and I feared for my life."

    Darcy's lips tightened, but just as he was about to protest, the General's adjutant spoke. "You made this accusation when I interviewed you yesterday, as well, Lieutenant, however you have not provided any witnesses to confirm this abuse. Colonel Forster's man has brought statements from the innkeeper and his stableman, the latter confirming the story that you tryed to steal a saddle horse in your attempt to flee."

    "Mr Darcy is a rich and powerful man--he probably paid them off!"

    Pickering had a very small smile on his face. "Seargent Dunn interviewed them himself, and I assure you, he caught no hint that any payment had been offered other than for what is due from the lodging."

    The General nodded, trusting his aid's thoroughness. "Lieutenant Wickham, you have been given the chance to name witnesses who will support your version of the story yet you have declined to do so. I will do so again; if we delay the trial by a day, can you give my aid specific names of people who were present at Buxton and can be brought to testify in your favour?"

    Colonel Fitzwilliam shifted in his seat and had to look down at the table to hide his amusement. Wickham was clearly gobsmacked by the concept that his story would not be taken for granted. After the defendant hemmed and hawwed for some minutes, the General finally waved him to silence.

    "I shall take that as a no. Very well; we shall leave discipline offenses for now and move on to the charges of criminal conduct. Pickering?"

    Arlington's adjutant obediently brought out a thick file, topped by a familiar ledger that had Wickem stepping forward without thinking, "That's mine! My private property--you cannot look at that!"

    Colonel Forster couldn't help himself. "Stand at attention, Lieutenant! You are an officer in his majesty's militia and have not been given leave to speak! And… to answer your… question… the moment you put on that uniform, your rights to privacy changed. Perhaps you do not take military regulations seriously, but I assure you, sir; We do."

    Wickham's eyes had widened during Forster's little speech. Not only had the colonel's bitterness seeped through enough that the defendant caught a whiff of the fury that was stewing just under the surface of his commanding officer's emotions, but he was finally beginning to comprehend that the red coat he wore ment more than a way to dazzle the young ladies.

    Things went rapidly downhill for Wickham after that. The unpaid debts documented by Darcy added to the notes provided by the Brighton merchants had the General wide-eyed at the man's profligacy. Colonel Fitzwilliam and his people had done a superb job documenting the extent and variety of Wickham's successful blackmail. In addition to the demands and recipts tabulated by the Lieutenant in his own hand were the letters he had kept threatening his victims. Arlington's face had frozen in a frown when Dunn made his report documenting Wickham's repeated use of unsavory characters to offload jewlery or other valuables received through nefarious means.

    By the end, Wickham had given up trying to protest and simply stood in stony silence, staring at the men at the table. Each time he tried to charm his way out of a charge, they seemed to be prepared with a fistful of papers contradicting him, making his lies look pitifully stupid and inept. It was not a feeling to which George Wickham was accustomed.

    When Lieutenant Wickham was given the chance to make a final statement defending himself, he did not have the sense to throw himself on the mercy of his prosecutors. Instead, he spouted off a lengthy monologue regarding how his life's ambitions to become a clergyman had been derailed by the persecution of Fitzwilliam Darcy. Elizabeth Bennet would have found the story he told quite familiar, but unfortunatley for Wickham, his audience was not in a mood to believe any tale of his.

    Before Wickham knew what was happening, he had been abruptly silenced by the General; "If you don't have anything relevant to say, then that is quite enough.") and delivered a guilty verdect on an exceedingly long list of discipline offenses and criminal conduct. Then the the discussion turned to punishment.

    "The standard punishment for this array of charges is hanging, of course," commented Pickering in much the same, dry voice that he had reprimanded Darcy for running across a courtyard many years ago. "We can have him taken over to Newgate and they will get the job done in the next day or two. I do not see any reason to make a public exibition of his punishment."

    Wickham had grown pale; his sweat had long since begun to soak through his wool uniform, showing in great, dark patches and producing a smell of fear in the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam almost felt sorry for the man. Almost.

    The General looked around the room. Is there anyone who wishes to argue for leniency? Otherwise I will concur with Pickering.

    Darcy had spoken little during the trial, but thoughts seemed to flicker rapidly across his mind like a flock of disturbed birds. Finally, it was Elizabeth's words that steadied him.

    William sighed but spoke from the heart. "For myself, I would ask that Mr. Wickham be treated with some leniency and deported." Seeing the confounded look in Richard's eye, he explained further. "There are several young ladies who, even if they do not still look upon him with affection, would be disturbed to learn that their own words were used as evidence leading to his death."

    Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded slowly and then spoke thoughtfully to the General. "Sir, if I might suggest, it would be easy enough to word the order such that if Lieutenant Wickham were ever to set foot in England again, he would be executed immediately without possibility for appeal."

    The General turned to his adjutant who nodded immediately. "Yes, certainly. And if I may, it strikes just the right note between immediate punishment for his misdeeds and opportunity for future redemption, yet still protects his victims from ever having to face him."

    In short order, the verdict was transcribed by Lieutenant Sanderson and signed by the General, witnessed by Pickering and the two Colonels. Mr. George Wickham was stripped of his commission without recompense and would be transported to Australia within the week on the next ship; he would spend his intervening hours in Newgate Prison.

    Darcy left the building with a feeling that the entire trial had an odd quality of surrealism. He wished desperately for Elizabeth, knowing that talking over the ordeal with her would help him make sense of his conflicted feelings. Knowing that she was busy with her aunt and sister, he made due by convincing his cousin to return with him to Derwent House for a brandy. Richard was not fooled but held his tongue and the two men spent some hours in the library reminiscing about their boyhoods.

    Fitzwilliam had never liked George Wickham much, but he understood his cousin's need to mourn the loss of a boyhood companion; one of the few left who still remembered the Darcys when Pemberley was home to a family, rather than the tattered remains. Before leaving, the Colonel managed to turn his slightly inebriated cousin's thoughts toward the future he was planning at Pemberley with Elizabeth at his side. Richard walked out into the night hoping that William's dreams would be of a certain young lady with sparkling eyes rather than Wickham.

    Continued In Next Section

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